


Of blood and love

by keikoHPfan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 27,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keikoHPfan/pseuds/keikoHPfan
Summary: Scorpius has disappeared, and Draco is desperate. Desperate enough to ask Harry bloody Potter for help... and discover that the Saviour has changed irrevocably.Will be slash.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older work, and a bit darker than what I usually write.  
> (as a side note, I apologize for those of you who started reading 'Prince's Choice of Doom' - that work had too many issues to be posted as it was, and one chapter is even missing from my file. I will upload it once I find the time to this bloody mess).  
> Anyway, enjoy! Or not. Tell me either way.

"I need your help, Potter."

There. He's said it. Not that it doesn't burn his throat to do so, but still. The dark haired man looks at him steadily, his face a blank mask. Shit. Potter used to be easier to read. But then again, the man before him isn't the teenager he used to know. It's a battle-hardened man of thirty-nine, who's been so badly injured in his last Auror heroic mission that he's bound to a magical wheelchair for the rest of his life.

It's Professor Potter now, and he's sitting behind his desk, the left side of his face crossed by an ugly scar that makes Draco shiver a little. The man teaches Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and even Draco has to admit it: who would be better than the Savior for that job?

"Granger... Granger told me to come to you. I... wasn't sure you'd be willing to help me, but she said... She said you'll do it."

Understanding downs on Potter's scarred face and his gaze softens.

"Scorpius?"

"He's missing" Draco says bluntly, because Potter has to understand. Draco's heart is being squeezed in a iron fist since Scorpius' disappearance. "I've tried everything. It's been one week and the Auror Department has no idea where to begin – I'm not sure they're trying very hard, to be honest."

"Malfoy... I'm not sure why Hermione told you to find me, but I'm not an Auror anymore. I'm not able to help you. I'm sorry. I can call someone at the Ministry, though, make sure that-"

"Potter, please." Shit, is he begging? Yes, he is, but it's Scorpius, it's Scorpius and it's killing him. He'll do anything. "Auror or not, you're the best. And... and I trust you. I'll do anything, just ask, and I swear I'll do anything you want me to do... I just... I can't stand it."

There are tears in his eyes and he looks away, shame making his face heat at an alarming rate.

"Please have a sit, Malfoy. I think a cup of tea would be a good idea at this point. Then you'll tell me exactly what happened."

A shrivelled house-elf brings them a tray with tea and scones and Draco thanks him quietly, wrapping his chilled hands around the cup. Then he tells Harry about the way Scorpius has just vanished last week, just before Christmas, and about the note Draco has found on his son's bed. ' _Time to pay, Malfoy'_ written in capital letters with a red ink that had looked suspiciously like blood – and Draco don't want to think about that right now. The Auror Department has kept the note, of course, but Draco describes it to Potter as best as he can.

"Everybody thought I would receive a letter, the Aurors told me I'd certainly have to pay a ransom, but... Nothing has come. Nothing, and I'm beginning to think that it's not money they want. They want me to pay in another way. I can't... I... My son will not pay for my mistakes, Potter. I will not allow it. I have to find him. He should be at home, he should have opened his Christmas presents, he should be excited to get back to Hogwarts. He's the only good thing in my life. He's..."

"Scorpius is a good kid. Smart and kind. A brilliant Ravenclaw. You have every reason to be proud of him, Draco." Potter smiles at Draco's surprise – has he just called him by his first name? – and sighs. "Look... I'm not sure I'll be able to help you. But I'll make a few calls to the Ministry, and I'll get back to you this evening. We'll decide what to do next. Is that okay?"

"More than okay. Thank you, Potter."

"Please, call me Harry. I think we're old enough to let the past behind us, aren't we?"

"Probably. I'll open the Floo for you." Potter makes a face, and Draco hastily adds "We're not living at Malfoy Manor. There's my address."

Draco hands the other man his card, and Potter raises an eyebrow.

"A flat in Muggle London? Okay then. I'll see what I can learn, and... Would you mind terribly if I'd just Floo to your flat? Floo-calls are not exactly comfortable for me, especially long ones."

"No, please do so. Thank you, Pot- Harry."

"Don't thank me just now. I didn't do anything, and I'm not even sure-"

"No, you don't understand. It means a lot to me that you agreed to help me. I know you'll do your best, and it's enough for now."

"You're welcome. I cannot imagine what you're going through. I'll see you later, then."

"Yes. Yes, later."

Draco exits Potter's – no, Harry's – office quietly and releases a shuddering breath, closing his eyes briefly to calm down.

_Hold on, Scorpius. We'll find you, son. I promise._

HP-HP-HP-HP

Hermione Granger looks at him with that kind smile of hers, and nods quietly.

"Yes, I knew he would not refuse."

"He could have. We're not exactly friends. Not even acquaintances."

"No. But... He likes scorpius very much, and besides, he can't refuse anything if it concerns children."

She leans back in her chair, chewing on her quill – no matter how often Draco has told her what a disgusting habit it is, she doesn't seem to care. Having Granger as his boss is surprisingly easy. She's smart, she's fair, and she seems to genuinely like him. Very few Ministry employees talk to him, and it's always a relief to meet with her. Their Department is doing great since they both work there, and that's probably why they still tolerate him. Draco would never have thought he'll work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he loves it.

"I hope he'll find something, and that he'll agree to help me further."

"He will. Once he begins something, he doesn't rest until it's done. Just... I know it's a lot to ask from you right now, but keep an eye on him, will you? He has a tendency to put his life at risk, and I don't want to spend one more hour at the hospital for him. Last time..." She closes her eyes, and Draco sees the way she's suddenly paler. "Last time I thought he was really going to die. Please ask for back-up, if it comes to that."

"I will."

"Good. Take the day off, Draco. You won't achieve anything today anyway. Call me if you learn anything."

"Thank you, Hermione. I..." Draco hesitates. "I don't know if I'd ever be able to repay you for everything you've done for me, but please, if you need something..."

"Draco, stop it. You Slytherins are incredible. It's not about debts and payments. I consider you as a friend. That's what friends are doing for each other."

"It's kind of... new to me."

"I know. Go home. Try to have a nap, you're looking dead on your feet."

HP-HP-HP-HP

As Draco lies in his couch, trying to get some much needed sleep, he cannot help but wondering about Harry bloody Potter. He has half expected the man to be broken, to be bitter and hardened, considering his recent disability and the consecutive loss of his Auror job. But the dark haired man seems as strong as ever, perhaps even stronger than he had been a few years ago, and kinder too. He has still the fascinating aura of power, and the clumsiness of his teenage years left place to a quiet confidence. Draco can see now why Scorpius talks about his DADA professor so much. It has little to do with the myth surrounding the Savior, contrary to what he used to think.

He had been reluctant to ask Potter for help, at first, but Granger had been right. He's Scorpius' best hope.

He's Draco's best hope. Fuck. As if he needed to be once more indebted to the bloody Savior.


	2. Chapter 2

If he’s honest, he has to admit that it’s fucking weird to have Harry Potter in the flesh in his living-room, his magical wheelchair hovering silently above his expensive carpet. The dark blue jeans he’s wearing enhance the unnatural slenderness of his legs, and he’s wearing a dark green hoodie that makes him look younger. Only the wrinkles around his eyes and a few strands of greying hair give his real age away. Draco clears his throat awkwardly, trying not to think too much about what news the ex-Auror has brought with him.

“Would you like something to drink? It’s already late, so I thought we could have a light dinner, if that’s alright with you, I mean…” Shit, he’s babbling.

“That would be perfect, Draco. I’m starved, actually. I skipped lunch today.”

“Okay. Erm… I don’t know if you prefer to stay in your chair or if you want to sit in one of those?”

Draco has no idea how to deal with a disabled person, honestly. He’s not particularly good with people in general, but this added difficulty makes him slightly nervous – more than slightly. He needs the man, after all. It wouldn’t do to offend him.

“I think I’ll be more comfortable in my chair. No offense, but those look terribly hard.”

Potter is smiling good-naturedly and Draco lets a relieved chuckle out.

“None taken. You’re right, too, Scorpius always says it makes his back ache. Thirteen years old and complaining like an old man.”

Draco’s smile falters. Scorpius. Potter senses his change of mood and gently touches his forearm, tilting his head up to look him in the eye.

“Take a seat, Draco. I’ll tell you what I’ve learned right away.”

“I’ve got the dinner under a stasis charm. I’ll be right back.”

Draco tries to get his breathing under control in his kitchen, and then Levitates the tray before him, making his way to the living-room as slowly as he can.

“I hope you like pasta.”

Potter nods quietly and they eat in silence for a while. Draco has cooked something he usually enjoys – spaghetti whit a thick pesto sauce and a side dish of salad – but everything tastes like mud. He’s too worried, too nervous.

“It’s delicious, Draco. Did you cook that yourself?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I enjoy cooking. It… keeps my mind off things.”

“I can understand that.” Potter puts his fork down and sighs. “I made a few calls to the Ministry this afternoon. The team that works on this case is a fairly good one. Not the best, but they’re good. They didn’t find any magical signature in Scorpius’ room, and no fingerprints either. I’ve managed to make them send the note to a friend of mine in Scotland Yard. Muggles have very reliable ways to find DNA on objects. They’re working on the list you’ve gave them, too. It would help a lot if you could point the names that are more likely to take revenge on you in such a way.”

“I have no idea! That’s what I told those dimwitted Aurors!”

Potter merely raises a dark eyebrow and Draco flushes.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I keep trying and trying to find someone that would be able to do that, that would be willing to do that, but… I don’t understand. I know I’ve done pretty bad things in the past, but… I don’t know.”

“You’re not your father. I could see why someone would want to take revenge on him. But you? You made a few mistakes, yes, but…” Potter bits his lip, cocking his head to the side, his too-green eyes never leaving Draco’s. “I don’t think it’s about the war, honestly.”

“Why? Because the people who were hurt by my fault are too noble for such a thing?”

“Because nothing you did was enough to make someone kidnap your innocent son, Draco. To my knowledge, you never killed anyone. You may have taken some bad decisions, you may have witnessed terrible things, but you’re not evil.”

“But I didn’t do anything to stop some of those things” Draco whispers, and the familiar pain of guilt twists his gut.

“True. But I don’t think you were in a position to do anything without getting yourself or your parents killed.” Potter rubs his eyes with his fingers and then looks at Draco again. “Who else could hate you enough to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m working at the Ministry. I’ve severed all ties with my father and his friends. I… I just basically work and take care of Scorpius.”

“Where is Scorpius’ mother?” Potter asks bluntly, and Draco is remembered of the teenage version of the man, always blurting out everything that went through his mind.

“She’s… gone. Our marriage was arranged. I agreed reluctantly… It was just after the war and the trials, and I just wanted to be left in peace. So I stupidly did what my parents wanted me to do and married the bitch. Astoria left a few months after Scorpius’ birth. We’re officially divorced. Last time I heard from her she was somewhere in Italy.”

“Okay. And at work?”

“I work with Granger. Nothing out of the ordinary lately. The laws for the house-elves rights are still causing one hell of a ruckus, of course, but we’re not receiving more threats than we usually do.”

Potter nods thoughtfully.

“I need to think about it, and have some things checked. Meet me in the Hogwarts kitchens tomorrow at eight. In the meantime, try to make a list of five names. Just five. The first that come to your mind when you think of someone that could hurt you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Draco opens his mouth to say something, but Potter is already gone, the Floo flaring behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how much he has changed over the years, he still doesn’t like to be told what he should do. Especially not from Potter. So, yes, Draco is scowling as he’s walking briskly on Hogwarts’ grounds the morning after, thank you very much. Who the bloody hell does the Savior think he is anyway? Yes, Draco has asked for his help – he is the best, after all, and it’s not as if Draco has a choice anyway. But that doesn’t mean the fucking Man-Who-Wouldn’t-Die has to rub it in Draco’s face.

Voices are coming from the kitchens, and Draco can’t resist eavesdropping through the slightly ajar door. He’s still a Slytherin, after all, and he wouldn’t let an opportunity to learn something useful pass so easily.

“Harry, I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, Minerva. But I’m alright, I swear.”

“Alright is not enough. You’re not happy. I’m afraid you never really were.”

“Maybe not. But I’m… content. I’ve got my friends, my colleagues, and my job. At first I didn’t know if I could do it, you known especially after all those years on the field. Teaching here, of all places. But I’m really enjoying it, I like teaching and I like the students – well, most of them anyway. I feel better now than I did as an Auror. And… it’s home. I guess it’s always been home.”

“Most of our teachers feel that way. ButI still wish you weren’t so lonely, Harry. You shouldn’t spend your Christmas break here, my boy. You deserve more.”

“Maybe it’s just meant to be that way. I’ve always been on my own, in the end. Maybe it’s better that way. And with the way I look now… Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Draco hears a heavy sigh – probably coming from McGonagall, current Headmistress. Draco would never have thought the Savior felt that way. He’s always supposed he was surrounded by adoring fans and dedicated friends, and probably a cohort of lovers, since Potter has remained single. It feels wrong, somehow, the way the hero’s voice carries such loneliness and resignation. Why hasn’t Potter found someone to share his life with? He’s rich, he’s famous, and so powerful that it makes Draco’s skin tingle each time he’s near him.

Well, of course, the hideous scar on his face and the wheelchair are not very attractive – it’s a pity, really, because Potter had become a very good-looking man over the years. But surely there are people able to see past that? It’s Potter, after all. Even in his actual state, he’s quite the catch. But the idiot probably wants love and trust and honesty and those stupid things Gryffindors crave so much.

Draco straightens his robes and knocks softly on the wooden door.

“Come in, Draco.”

Potter smiles softly, his eyes shining behind his glasses, and takes a sip from his tea cup.

“Potter. Headmistress.” Draco nods politely to both of them, and stands a bit awkwardly a few feet away from the big table where they are apparently sharing a breakfast.

“Mr Malfoy. I’ve been very sorry to hear about Scorpius’ disappearance. I hope Harry and you will be able to bring him home quickly.”

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

“If you need anything, I will be in my office all day. Harry, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco nods again, and Harry bids her goodbye with a cheerful “Bye, Minerva” that makes her shake her head with a fond smile.

“She likes you” Draco states dumbly.

“Yes. She’s a bit like a grandmother to me.”

“A bit scary, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Please, take a seat. Did you already have breakfast?”

“Yes, but a cup of tea would be nice, please.”

“Lory? Could you please make another cup of tea for Mr Malfoy here? Thank you.”

The house-elf bows and busies itself with his tea, and Potter just sips at his cup, not saying anything. Only when Draco gets his own cup does the other man sighs deeply and begins to talk.

“I don’t suppose you have any mean to track Scorpius? I know that some parents put Tracking Charms on their children.”

“No. No, I didn’t want to… I mean…” Draco closes his eyes briefly, trying to get a hold on himself. “ I didn’t think it was necessary. Scorpius spends most of his time here in Hogwarts, and the rest of the time with me, during holidays. Besides… I’m not fond of that type of things.”

He absently rubs his left forearm and is relieved to see that Potter’s eyes don’t leave his face, and that he doesn’t make any remark about Draco’s Dark Mark. He really has changed.

“I can understand that. I wouldn’t do that to my kid either, especially on a teenager.”

“Obviously I should have.” Draco replies bitterly, and Potter smiles gently.

“You can’t prevent that type of event. Don’t beat yourself over it. What’s important right now is to stay focused. Did you think about those five names I asked you to write down?”

“Yes. I did.”

Draco hands the dark haired man an folded piece of parchment and watch as the other man carefully unfolds it and reads. He winces when Potter reacts to the last name – he knew he would – even if it’s only a brief widening of his eyes, he’s surprised.

“Okay.”

“You did not expect that, did you?”

“Some of them are quite a surprise, I must admit. It’s interesting, though. I used to ask victims to do this when I worked as an Auror. It’s usually way more efficient that endless lists of names of people that could eventually harm them – most people are aware of their real enemies.”

“So, how do we proceed now?”

Draco’s hands shake a little, and he tries to hide it by wrapping his fingers tightly around his cup, but Potter’s eyes quickly move from his face to them, and he knows he’s seen it.

“I’ve made a request to the Ministry. I’ve been granted the permission to work on this case.”

“The Ministry cannot refuse anything to the mighty Savior, can they?” Draco asks with a sneer.

“Well, you can hardly complain, Draco. You were the one to ask for my help. If you’ve changed your mind, I’d gladly enjoy the rest of my holidays.”

Draco nearly hyperventilates at that – if his own stupidity and misplaced pride costs Scorpius’ life, he’ll never forgive himself. He feels his cheeks flame with shame, the color probably deepening due to his awareness of the blush.

“I apologize.”

“Old habits die hard, I see. Look, I know it must be hard for you, to ask for my help, and I can’t imagine what it is to fear for your child’s life. I can’t promise to bring him back, but I swear I’ll do my best to help you.”

Potter’s voice is hard as steel – Draco has never heard him talk like that. He can see now the brave hero, the hard-working Auror behind the broken body – he’s still there. Strong and determinate and restless. If anyone can help him, it’s Potter. Potter’s disability may have made Draco doubt for a while, but somehow he has always known it.

“I’m sorry. I thank you for your help, I’m aware you could have refused – I would even have understood. I promise to behave” he adds with a smirk, hoping to break the tension. He’s deeply aware that he’s the one stuck in the past, when Potter has shown nothing but professionalism and polite concern.

Potter chuckles, and Draco feels himself relax. The other man’s face is less weird-looking when he laughs, as if the joy erased a bit of the pain he’s gone through.

“I have one question, before we begin.”

Draco takes a sip of his now cold tea and nods quietly.

“Why didn’t you put Bill Weasley on your list? I mean he would have more reasons to wish you harm than Katie Bell.”

“He didn’t tell you? I wrote to all of them, after my trial. I tried to…” Draco looks in Potter’s eyes once more, and to his relief there’s no malice, just curiosity and something akin to understanding in the green orbs. “ I tried to apologize. To explain why I did the things I did, why I made such mistakes. Rosmerta from the three Broomsticks and Bill Weasley answered. Katie Bell didn’t.”

“Okay, that makes sense.”

“Why did you mention him? Do you think… do you think he could have something to do with that?”

“No. Certainly not. Bill would never hurt an innocent child. He would most likely punch you in the face or something” Potter smirks in a way that makes his scarred face look a bit frightening. “Now that this is cleared, we can begin. Do you have any appointment this week?”

“No. Nothing.”

And even if he had, he would cancel it.

“Good. I think we should begin with the first name on your list, then.”

“What… What do you mean?”

“We’ll visit each person you listed. That’s how I work. Do you trust me enough to do that? If you prefer, I can go alone and report to you later.”

“No. I trust you in this. I’m just… I didn’t think I’d have to see them.”

“I know. But your presence can be an asset. We’ll see the way they react to it and to the disappearance of your son.”

“Okay.” He can do it. He has to do it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Gregory Goyle_

_Rodolphus Lestrange_

_Katie Bell_

_Astoria Greengrass_

_Lucius Malfoy_

The names are spinning madly in his head, over and over again. Potter doesn't look at him, and Draco is strangely grateful for it, because he's fairly certain his near panic is painfully obvious.

"Ready?" Potter asks quietly, and of course he's not ready, he just wants to turn on his heels and run, but he has to find Scorpius, and he trusts Potter's methods – as disturbing as this particular thought is.

"Yes" he whispers, and Potter knocks on the door with a sure hand.

It's kind of ironic how the man beside him is looking so confidently strong, even trapped in his wheelchair, when Draco's hands are moist with sweat and his heart is beating so loudly that he's sure the whole building is shaking with the force of it. The dark hallway reeks of cheap alcohol and urine and the whole atmosphere only makes Draco's uneasiness grow. When the door finally opens, Draco barely represses a disgusting wince at the sight before them.

Greg looks like he's at least ten years older than his real age. Draco has trouble recognize him at all, in fact. His pale face is nearly emaciated, and dirty clothes hang loosely from his thin and tall body. He's stinking, too, a revolting stench of cold sweat and dirt and other things about which Draco really doesn't want to think too much. His eyes are glazed and unfocused and he looks dumbly from Potter to Draco, apparently not processing what his eyes are seeing – Draco can understand that seeing himself and the Savior on his doorstep must be unsettling, and it would probably be even if the man was sober, which he obviously is not.

"Draco? What d'you want?"

"We just... would like to talk a little, Greg."

"Talk? Got nothing to tell you, you filthy traitor. Nothing. Go 'way."

"We're here concerning an official inquiry. I could call Aurors and have them bring you to the Ministry, Goyle. I'm sure you don't want that. It would be easier for everyone if you'd just let us come in and ask you a few questions. It won't be long."

Potter's tone is calm and almost bored. His Auror voice, Draco realizes. Greg seems to think about it, then grunts and steps aside, allowing them to get in the room he's renting in Knockturn Alley. Greg collapses on his unmade bed and glares at Potter. Draco doesn't sit – the only chair is covered with stains, and only Merlin knows what those are.

"Draco's son has disappeared" Potter states bluntly, and Draco suddenly wants to slap him. What is wrong with the man? But Potter doesn't even look at him, his green gaze is entirely focused on Greg.

"What?" Greg is looking confused. Not that this is a particularly astonishing look on him, but Draco knows him – well, he used to know him – and he doesn't think that Greg is able to fake such an expression.

"Scorpius. My son. Someone has taken him."

Greg laughs, then. A mean and raspy sound that makes Draco's skin crawl. He can feel his magic flaring wildly around him, his anger fueling it too quickly.

"Do you know something about it, Greg?"

"No. That's a pity. Would gladly have helped."

"You bastard! It's only a child!"

"Draco."

Potter's hand is on his forearm, gripping it lightly, and Draco's anger deflates.

"Goyle. You're aware of what you are risking if you are helping Scorpius' kidnappers, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, Potter. Don't have anything to do with that."

"Okay. It'll be enough for now. But, Goyle... If I find out that you lied to us, I'll make your life a hell, understood?"

Greg nods and looks at Draco again.

"Tell me, Draco. How does it feel, to lose someone you love?"

Potter's grip tightens on his arm and Draco feels the familiar tug of Apparition.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Breathe, Draco. You know I had to get you out of there. You would have done something you'd regret later."

"I'm not sure about that."

Potter chuckles quietly, and the sound is surprisingly soothing. Draco turns around to look at him, wondering how Potter is still able to do that. He's almost able to forget about the scar, with the dark haired man chuckling like that. Almost.

"Greg hates me."

"I figured that much."

"He blames me for Vince's death. And for his own downfall after the war. I tried to help him, I even found him a job at the Ministry, but... He couldn't keep it. Couldn't keep any of the jobs I managed to get him, and after a few years I just... I gave up on him." It's a bitter admission, one that makes his chest hurt. But it's true, isn't it? He gave up on his childhood friend.

"Sometimes you can't save them. They have to save themselves."

"Yeah, I suppose so. He thinks I'm a traitor. What he doesn't understand is that I never truly believed all that bullshit with Purebloods and the Dark Lord and I just... I felt trapped. I never wanted to take any part in that madness. If my mother hadn't been there, I would have ran away, you know."

"You did what you had to do to protect her. I understand that. I would not have testified for you otherwise."

"So, what do you think?"

"He hasn't anything to do with it. Even sober, he's not smart enough to have schemed a kidnapping, and nobody in their right mind would have hired him for that kind of job, he's not reliable enough."

"I agree."

"Good. I'll tell the Auror Departement to keep an eye on him, just in case. I think we have time to meet Katie before lunch. Feeling up to it?"

"I need a cup of coffee." Because his hands are shaking and he feels like throwing up, and he needs some time to get a hold on himself. "I know a place. Do you... Do you trust me enough to let me Side-Along you?"

Potter's eyes are clear and soft and he lifts his hand, palm up, and Draco wonders how one can not say anything but give so much away at the same time. He takes the other man's hand, and the former Auror skin is warm and rough, and Draco already feels better, even if he knows he shouldn't.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"It's a Muggle coffee shop. I like it because it's quiet and, well..."

"I understand. It's nice."

Potter orders a caramel macchiato – extra hot, please – and Draco is a bit embarrassed to order exactly the same thing. Who would have guessed? Potter wheels himself to a table in a quiet corner, and Draco follows wordlessly. They sip on their drinks quietly for a while, and Draco tries very hard to think about something else than Scorpius – his mind has apparently decided it would be a good idea to supply him with various and detailed images of his son's dead body. He feels shameful tears running on his cheeks and he suddenly wants to get out.

"It's okay. Let it out. You have to release a bit of pression if you want to go on. Do you want me to get out for a while?"

"No" he whispers, and he means it. He angrily wipes his tears with the too-small napkin he's been given with his coffee and takes his head in his hands. "He adores you, you know."

"What?"

"Scorpius. He litteraly worships the ground you walk on. Well, you wheel on. Sorry." Draco winces.

"It's okay."

"He... he said once that you weren't at all like the hero the newspapers describe. That you were better, because you were human. I didn't understand what he meant at the time – I think it didn't help that I felt a bit jealous of you, again. But I think I do, now."

Potter is looking at him with wide green eyes and Draco enjoys the content feeling of satisfaction. He has left Potter speechless. He can't help the smirk, and Potter's answering smile warms him way too much. It's good, though.


	5. Chapter 5

Katie Bell is a tall and slim woman, with dark brown shoulder-length hair. Her friendly smile disappears quickly when she spots Draco standing awkwardly behind Potter's wheelchair.

"Hello, Katie. Could we perhaps come in? We have a few questions to ask you, and I have to admit I've been in this chair for too long today, my back is killing me."

She nods stiffly and opens the door wider to let Potter get in. Draco must admit he's impressed – he would not have thought that the righteous Saviour had it in him. To use his disability like that was positively Slytherin. Then again, Potter has surprised him more than once in just a few days. Bell's eyes bore a hole into his skull as Draco follows Potter, and his fingers itch with the need to draw his wand.

A few minutes later, Potter has left his wheelchair to sit in a dark red couch – making a show of releasing relieved sighs and closing his eyes in pleasure, much to Draco's amusement – and Draco sits stiffly next to him. Bell has brought a tray with tea and small chocolate biscuits, and she keeps on sending Draco venomous glances as she prepares Potter's cup. She pours tea in another cup and hands it to Draco without asking for his preferences, and he doesn't dare reaching for the sugar bowl, so he just blows on his tea to cool it, wondering if he'll manage to drink the too-bitter liquid. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Potter's hand softly touches his knee, a kind smile on his face, before turning to face Bell with a sigh.

"Katie, I think it's best if we go straight to the point. We're here because Draco's son, Scorpius, one of my students, has disappeared. The Auror Department is at loss and Draco has asked for my help."

"I see. It doesn't explain why you're here, though."

She's looking at him like he's the most disgusting thing she has ever seen, and in a way, Draco understands. He probably wouldn't want to see himself ever again if he was in her shoes. But still, he apologized years ago, and he has done his best to make up for his past mistakes. He has worked so hard, all these years, and it's all for naught. His son will suffer from his name, and from his father's past. Hell, Scorpius is suffering already. It's unfair.

"We're here because we believe you still hold a grudge against Draco, Katie. We have to check every possibility."

Bell blinks. Then she looks at Draco, studying his face with obvious disgust.

"I still hate him, that's true. He nearly killed me."

"I'm sorry. I wrote a letter after-"

"I know. I didn't bother to read it. I don't want to listen to your pathetic excuses, not then, not now. I was only a child and-"

"I was one too! You have no idea what I went through! You just assume- Fuck." Draco takes a deep breath and tries to gather his wits – Scorpius, he has to think of Scorpius. "Everybody seems to forget that I was just as young. It's not an excuse, I know that. I apologized to every single person I hurt, after the war, and I've tried to be a better person. In the end, it doesn't matter, nothing matters because it's never enough. But it's not about me, right now. It's about my son. He's only thirteen. He has never done anything to anyone. His only fault is to be my son, to be a Malfoy. Just... Please. If you know something... Please tell us. He doesn't have to pay for my sins."

He hates how broken his voice sounds to his own ears, he hates feeling Potter's intense gaze on him, but he keeps on looking at Bell, because she has to understand. There's the ghost of a smile on her face, and then she turns her attention to Potter.

"I would never hurt a child, Harry. You know that. No matter how much I'd like to hurt Malfoy, I would not do it through his son. I'm not sorry to see him suffer like that, but I'm sorry for his son. And I can't help you, I know nothing about this. I hope you'll find the boy quickly."

"Thanks, Katie. We had to come."

"I know."

She stands up and Potter moves from the couch to his wheelchair – how he manages to do that with his useless legs is a wonder, though Draco guesses the man had to learn how to deal with his disability if he wanted to remain independent. And Draco is certain that Potter would hate to depend on others. Bell has almost closed the door behind them when she calls Potter.

"Harry!"

Potter turns around to look at her, and she bits her lip.

"Be careful. It could be a trap."

Draco fights the urge to go back and slap her for suggesting he could use his own son in such a way. Potter just shakes his head with a smile.

"I'm aware of that. I wouldn't be alive if I didn't keep in mind that it always can be a trap, Katie."

Potter's warm hand grips his wrist before he has the opportunity to say anything and Disapparates them.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"I didn't mean it in that way, you know."

"What? Wait- how the hell did you manage to Apparate us right through the wards?"

Potter grins in a disarming manner and Draco collapses on his couch – he still doesn't get how Potter could Apparate through his wards, right in his living-room.

"I happen to have that talent. Anyway, I wanted to say that I did not mean you could have anything to do with Scorpius' kidnapping. I'm simply aware that it could be a trap to kill one of us. Or both of us. But I know you love Scorpius more than you hate me, and that you would never use him like that."

"I don't hate you."

It's Potter's turn to be surprised. He looks at Draco curiously, making his wheelchair hover silently until he's far too close for comfort.

"You don't?"

"I don't think I ever did, not even in school. You annoyed me, and I wanted to prove you weren't as perfect as everyone thought, but I didn't hate you."

"Not even after the bathroom incident?"

Draco nearly chokes on his own spit. The man is so damn blunt, it's a miracle nobody has already killed him.

"I don't think so. I... I was just angry that you had failed to kill me. It would have been better for anyone. So, do you believe what Bell told us?"

"Yes."

"But she hates me."

"She does. And she would probably hex you into next century, given the opportunity. But I really don't think she would do anything to a child. She hates what you've done to her too much – she would not make an innocent child suffer."

"Potter..."

"Harry."

"Harry. Do you think we have a chance to find him?" To find him alive, Draco thinks, but he can't bear to say it out loud. Maybe Potter understands, because he frowns deeply – and Salazar, but his scar is even uglier like that – and he brushes his knuckles against Draco's knee.

"Don't lose hope, Draco."

"No Gryffindorish declarations? No optimistic rants about how everything will be alright? I'm disappointed."

Potter – Harry? Is it Harry now? – smiles, but his eyes are full of pain, and there it is again, that strange resignation that doesn't suit him at all.

"I'm not that boy anymore."

Draco has no idea why this side of Potter – Harry, damn it - is so disturbing. He almost wants to ask the man what the hell happened to him. When did _he_ lose hope?

"I have to go back to Hogwarts for a few hours. I'll be back this evening. And prepare a travel bag. We'll be away for a few days."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I apologize at how awfully cliché this chapter is.

Harry is back a few hours later, just like he said he would. There is a rucksack hanging from the back of his wheelchair and he's wearing a rugged-looking leather jacket over his trade-mark hoodie. His smile is too kind, and Draco has to look away.

"So, where are we going?"

"New-Zealand."

"Lucius, then."

"Yes. I still haven't found your ex-wife. And Rodolphus Lestrange has disappeared after the war, as you certainly know. I'm working on it, though. Ready?"

Harry is holding an old book – Oscar Wilde, Draco notes absently – and Draco touches the Portkey with the tip of his fingers.

New Zealand. Lucius. Is he strong enough for that?

HP-HP-HP-HP

New Zealand is breathtakingly beautiful. Wild and pure, with magic pulsating in the air in a way Draco has never felt before. It's an exhilarating, if somewhat weird, feeling. Draco can understand why his father has chosen that particular country.

Harry's Portkey has taken them in the middle of a wizarding village, apparently, and the ex-Auror is already on his way to a shabby-looking inn. By the time Draco shakes himself from his New-Zealand-induced daze, Harry is already talking to the middle-aged woman behind the counter.

"Yes Mr. Black, of course. The room is upstairs, though, will that be a problem?"

"Not at all, thanks for your concern."

"Great. We're serving breakfast from 7 till 10. Do not hesitate to ask me if you or your husband need anything."

Harry nods, and soon they're in a room with light blue walls and a cream rug. It's nice enough, Draco supposes – it's clean and warm. The only problem is that there's only one bed – king-sized, but still – and Draco would like to know how the hell he's Harry's husband, now.

"So, love, are we travelling for our honeymoon or something?"

Harry grins, his eyes sparkling, and nods.

"Exactly. It was the best cover I could make up in such a short time. Besides, I found it rather funny."

"And you're Mr Black? Why didn't she recognize you?"

"Some glamour charms. Plus we're not in the UK here, so she's less likely to recognize me after all these years. I'm starving, I skipped lunch once more. Want to have dinner with me? I've heard there is a good pub down the road."

"Lead the way, husband of mine."

Harry chuckles and Draco is surprised to feel his own answering grin, wide and sincere. He rather likes this Harry Potter. Maybe... maybe they can stay in touch, when it'll be all over. When they'll find Scorpius.

Please, please. Let him be alright.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Dinner with Harry has been surprisingly easy. They have many common interests, from Quidditch to politics, and they get along far better than expected. Harry seems to sense every time Draco thinks too much and makes sure to make him come back to here and now. There are some awkwardness still, but it could be far worse.

Speaking of awkwardness, they are now back in their room, and Draco looks at the single bed with a raised eyebrow.

"So, how are we doing this, Harry?"

"I guess the bed is big enough for the two of us. I'm not exactly a giant, and you're rather... lean. Unless it makes you uncomforable, in which case I can transfigure the chair or something..."

"It's alright. I've got a letter to write, if you want to use the bathroom in the meantime."

"Oh! Alright."

Harry seems to hesitate, his fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. He seems younger. He's looking quite exhausted, too.

"Something the matter?"

"Just... Be careful. I would advise not to disclose our current location to anyone."

"I won't. I'm only writing to McGonagall, if you must know."

"You're... what?"

"She's worried about Scorpius. And she's worried about you, too. I promised to write her everyday."

Draco does not want to think about the fact that he's going to write to Minerva McGonagall about Harry bloody Potter everyday. What those Gryffindors make him do, honestly. Unexpectedly, Harry laughs, his head thrown back, and the scarred skin is streching rather weirdly on his face, but the sound of it... It's warm and deep, like melted dark chocolate on a cold winter day. It makes Draco shivers with a sudden flare of desire, and once more he wonders why this man is single.

"I can't believe she managed to make you do that! She's incredible, really."

Harry disappears in the bathroom, still chuckling, and Draco shakes his head. He quickly writes his report to McGonagall and goes downstairs to give it to the innkeeper, who's looking pleased to help him. Harry is sitting on the bed with a book, and only nods to him quietly when he comes back.

The shower is scalding hot and Draco feels the heat soothe his muscles and the tenseness of his neck and shoulders. Tomorrow he will face Lucius. He shudders at the thought. Salazar knows he didn't think he would have to see the bastard ever again. He feels strangely grateful for Potter's presence, because there is no way in hell he could do that alone. There's another awkward moment when he slips under the covers, but the bed is big enough to allow them enough space to sleep comfortably without touching each other, and Harry blows the candles with a careless wave of his hand – and yes, Draco may feel a little jealous of that display of casual power. After a few minutes, Draco hears himself speak in the dark.

"I don't want to see him. I hate him."

And he really has no idea why the hell he's admitting such a thing.

"I know. I'll be there."

"Yes."

They are silent again, but Draco can pratically feel Harry's restlessness beside him.

"Say it."

"What?"

"You want to say something. Say it, or we'll never get any sleep."

"How does it feel?"

"How does what feel?"

"To have a child" Harry whispers, and Draco can feel how much it costs him to ask this, how awkward and embarrassing it must be for him to ask Draco such a thing. He sighs, trying to think.

"It's terrifying. Exhausting. I mean, half of the time you just want to drown them, and the other half you'd like to shield them from the world forever. It's good, though. It's a different kind of love, where you give freely and don't even think to take. It's humbling, too."

"Thank you. I... I've asked Hermione about it, too, but she only answers that I'll know one day. She doesn't understand that I know I won't, and that I'd like someone to tell me about it. You know, to catch a glimpse of what it must be like. Just... I don't know."

Draco bits his lip, because he wants to blurt out exactly what Hermione has told Harry, and that's probably exactly what he doesn't want to hear.

"Why are you so sure that you won't get the chance to know by yourself?"

"I think that's a story for another time, Draco."

Harry's voice is soft but Draco can feel the warning. He will not push him. There are things he doesn't want to talk about either. Besides, they're not friends. Not yet. Instead, he decides to talk about Scorpius, because it's good to think about his son, to remembers good memories. And maybe because that's what Harry wants to hear.

"When Scorpius was born, I couldn't believe how tiny he was. I couldn't believe that pink and shrivelled thing was actually my son – I mean, have you looked at me? I couldn't possibly have a child that looked like a boiled house-elf!"

Harry chuckles and Draco goes on, until his lids are too heavy and sleep takes him.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco wakes up with a start. There has been a loud thump, like something has fallen to the ground. Like someone has fallen. The room is pitch dark, and Draco takes his wand and quietly whispers "Lumos". Harry's not in bed, which means that it's likely him who has made that worrying sound. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, but there's no light coming from the small room. Could it be that Harry needs help? Should Draco check on him?

"Harry? You alright in there?"

The only answer is a pained moan and Draco gets out of bed, wand in hand, and opens the bathroom door. Harry is lying on the tiles, his wheelchair in the corner next to the toilet, an arm wrapped around his chest. He's biting his lip so hard that there's blood on his chin. He's only in his boxers and a white tee-shirt, and his pale and thin legs are contrasting weirdly with his strong and tanned upper body. The sarcastic words Draco wants to say die quickly in his throat when the dark haired man turns his head away from him, a deep blush on his cheeks, as if he's ashamed to be found like that.

"Hey... What the hell are you doing, Harry? Did you hurt yourself?"

Draco kneels next to him, and touches the hand that is gripping Harry's ribs.

"I fell. The bathroom is not exactly made for people like me. And... I'm no good with healing charms, especially wandless ones. Shit. I think I've got broken ribs."

"Let me take a look. You're lucky, I'm pretty good with healing charms. Got a lot of practice."

"Because of Scorpius?"

"No. Because of Lucius."

Harry doesn't answer but his gaze softens, and Draco looks away. He casts a quick Diagnosis Spell that shows that two ribs are indeed broken, and there are several nasty bruises already forming on the ex-Auror body.

"It's not too bad. I'm going to heal your ribs, okay?"

Harry nods quietly and Draco heals him at the best of his abilities.

"There. You'll probably be sore tomorrow, but there's nothing more I can do."

"Thank you."

Harry sits up carefully, and slowly moves backwards toward his wheelchair, using his arms only. Draco is lost for a second watching the hard muscles of Harry's arms play under the thin cotton of his tee-shirt before he shakes himself out of his daze.

"Don't be a stubborn git, Harry."

Draco casts a feather-light charm on the other man and takes him in his arms before he can protest. The startled squeak Harry lets out makes Draco chuckle as he makes his way to the bed. It's a bit awkward to carry a grown man bridal-style like that, but not unpleasant. Harry's arms are locked around Draco's neck and the dark haired man is warm. Draco tucks Harry in with a smirk that earns him a half-hearted scowl.

"There. Now try to let me sleep, will you?"

"Shut up."

Draco snorts and makes himself comfortable in the bed again, curling on his right side like he's used to. He's facing Harry, who's lying on his back and smiling softly. Draco whispers "Nox" and the room is dark again.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night. And, er... Thanks, Draco."

HP-HP-HP-HP

The door opens with a crack and an old house-elf looks up at them with enormous watery eyes.

"Master Draco? Come in."

Draco gestures for Harry to get in first and wants to snap at the understanding he sees in the green eyes, but he refrains from doing so. Lucius' house is more a small cottage, lost in a green ocean of grass. There are no other houses in the vicinity – none they can see, at least. The house-elf – is it Leiki? Or Dolly? – leads them in a gloomy room that looks like a study, and then he sees him. Lucius is sitting in an enormous leather chair behind a mahogany desk. His long hair is more grey than blond now, and he's much thinner than he was a few years ago. The eyes are the same, though – all steel grey and cold and piercing – and the mean smirk is in place as well.

"Well, well, well. Isn't it my traitorous son? And you've brought an illustrious guest, I see. Potter."

"Lucius."

His father is suddenly clenching his jaw and Draco knows he's pissed to be called by his first name by the Savior.

"Why are you here, Draco? And why did you bring your new boyfriend with you? It's enough that you're a shame to our name. I don't need to see who you share your bed with, especially not if it's him."

Draco flushes with anger and shame. He should have known it. Nothing has changed. He doesn't dare looking at Harry, doesn't want to see the other man's expression.

"Do not insult Harry, Lucius. You know how much we all owe him. We're here because Scorpius has been taken. Harry is only here to help me."

"Oh. I see. So his presence has nothing to do with your... unnatural proclivities, then."

"Lucius, that's quite enough. Your grandson has been kidnapped. Do you know anything about it? Did someone contact you, maybe?"

"And why would someone contact me? I haven't seen my grandson in years, thanks to you, Draco."

"And you know perfectly well why I do not allow you to see Scorpius."

"I don't know what I've done wrong with you. Your mother was too soft with you. I shouldn't have let her-"

"Do not speak about Mother. She was a good person, she was kind and cared about me, unlike you."

"She made a bloody shirt-lifter out of you!"

"No, she didn't. That's what I am! I am gay, Lucius! And no beating, no cursing can change that! You've tried enough times to realize that, I think!"

Draco is breathing too fast, his hands are shaking and he's suddenly painfully aware of Harry's silent presence beside him. Shit. It's too late, anyway.

"And you know why I don't want you to see Scorpius. I don't want you to lay a hand on him. I don't want you to fill his head with lies about blood superiority or with your twisted views on homosexuality. Scorpius is a good kid, he's a smart and kind boy, and I won't tolerate that you sully him in any way. And if you've somehow done something to him, so Salazar help me, but I'll show you just how much I remember from your little sessions, Lucius."

Draco storms out of the study, out of the cottage, blinded by his tears and his uncontrollable rage.

He wants to cry and scream and break something. He wants to get back in and curse Lucius until the bastard doesn't know his own name anymore. He wants his son back, so badly it hurts.

He doesn't react when Harry joins him outside, or when he gently takes his hand to Side-Along him, or when he pushes a cup of tea in his ice-cold hands. He doesn't hear the softly spoken words of reassurance, doesn't see the worried glances and doesn't feel the careful touches.

But he knows Harry's here, and he knows he's not alone, and it's like a fragile flame in the darkness of his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Harry's POV, because Draco is somewhat... incapacitated at the momen.

_Draco is spectacularly drunk. Harry has left him only two hours to Fire-call Ron and one of his contacts, and the damn idiot has managed to snatch a bottle of Firewhiskey from the inn’s kitchen. He was really distraught after their visit to Lucius – and Harry can understand why, really – and Harry has left him in their room in a zombie-like state, hoping to find him better after his errands and to go on with what they have to do._ _And to talk about Lucius, as well. Salazar knows there is much to say about that fucking bastard._

_Well, trust Draco Malfoy to mess with Harry’s plans._

_“Merlin, Draco, what are you doing to yourself?”_

_“Think ‘m drunk. This is good stuff, y’know.”_

_“It certainly seems so” Harry answers dryly._

_“Don’t be mad at me. Don’t like it when people I like are mad. Scorpius was mad at me, last time I saw him. I have to find him, y’know. Tell him I’m sorry I’m not a good father. Tell him I love him. Because I do. Love him. I love him so much.”_

_“Of course you do. He knows it, Draco. Scorpius knows it. And… You know, he loves you too. He speaks of you, of what you are doing, of how brave you are.”_

_“Not brave. ‘M a coward. Everybody knows it. You’re brave. Savior ‘n all.”_

_Harry would laugh if it wasn’t so sad. Pain and anguish are practically radiating off Draco, his grey eyes are clouded with alcohol and fear._

_“I think you should rest a bit, Draco. I can’t help you, can you get up and go lie on the bed?”_

_Draco does as requested – which is probably an effect of his drunken state – and curls on his side, his back to Harry. He mumbles something that Harry doesn’t understand._

_“What?”_

_“Stay with me?”_

_Harry doesn’t even hesitate, as strange as it seems. He hauls himself up on the bed on the other side of the bed and arranges his legs to lie on his back, staring at the white ceiling._

_“Does it hurt?”_

_Harry turns his head slightly to the side and Draco suddenly reaches out, his warm fingertips ghosting over Harry’s scar._

_“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”_

_“Makes you look funny. Bit like Mad-Eye Moody.”_

_A familiar twinge of pain squeezes Harry’s heart, but it’s gone soon enough. Draco’s drunken bluntness is unexpected, even if his words aren’t. Harry knows what he looks like._

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_“But you’re not broken. I thought you were, at first. But you’re just stronger. Always stronger. Always a good person.”_

_“Well, I can’t really count on my good looks anymore, now can I?” Harry jokes – and here it is, that hint of bitterness. He thought it was gone. Apparently it’s not._

_“But you’re still beautiful.”_

_Draco’s hand lands on his neck and makes Harry look at him. Harry can only blink._

_“You don’t know it, but I think you are. ‘M tired now. You’ll find Scorpius, won’t you? You have to, you know.”_

_Draco snuggles closer, and after just a few seconds Harry sees his eyes fluttering close._

_Harry looks at the blonde man for a long time, smirking slightly when he starts to snore lightly, his mouth agape in a very un-Malfoyish manner._

_Maybe he should take a picture of Draco like that and keep it for later. It would be the perfect blackmail material after all._

_He has no idea why he can’t bring himself to take the picture._


	9. Chapter 9

Bloody buggering hell. He’s going to feel that headache for a while – unless the Savior has brought some Hangover potions with him, but it seems unlikely. Speaking of Harry, the prat is currently looking at him. He’s sitting in the bed, his back propped up against the headboard.

“Welcome back.”

“Mmmh… I’m getting too old for this.”

“Probably. Do you feel any better?”

“Not really. And now I’ve got one hell of a headache on top of it all. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because you left me alone.”

Fuck, he has not meant to say that out loud. Harry is looking at him with wide eyes.

“You didn’t seem to know I was there, so I thought it would make no difference if I went to Fire-call Ron and Stuart.”

“Well, I knew. And then you left, and, I don’t know. It seemed necessary, somehow. Not to feel that much, you know?”

Harry nods and then smirks when Draco pitifully struggles to sit up.

“I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing. I remember telling you about Scorpius and… oh fuck, did I ask about your scar? I’m sorry.” Draco winces and feels a blush heating his cheeks – did he really tell Harry he’s beautiful? For pity’s sake, it’s not even true!

“It’s okay. You weren’t being rude or anything. In fact I quite like your drunken self.”

The smirk grows wider and Draco shots the dark haired man his best patented Malfoy glare of death. Apparently it’s not enough to impress the Savior, who snorts rather inelegantly before moving his legs and getting in his wheelchair.

“I think we have to talk about Lucius.”

That’s exactly what Draco doesn’t want to talk about. Before he can say so, though, Harry raises a hand and shakes his head.

“I know you don’t want to. But I’ve got some information and I think Lucius may be involved.”

“What? No, it’s not possible. Not him, I swear-“

Draco doesn’t want to think about what Lucius could do to Scorpius. He’s going to kill him.

“Calm down, Draco. I think it could be a good thing, actually. I need you to have a clear mind for this. Take a shower and drink some water, and we’ll have an early dinner in the room. I’ll be right back. Try to refrain from doing anything stupid in the meantime.”

Draco opens his mouth to argue, but Harry raises a single eyebrow and he shuts it promptly. Harry leaves and Draco gets in the shower as quickly as possible in the weak hope to lessen his pounding headache.

He will more likely than not get another one while talking to Harry anyway.

HP-HP-HP-HP

He feels slightly better after a very long shower and two full glasses of cold water. Harry is looking at him expectantly, and Draco sits in front of the small table in front of the window. There’s a tray with what looks like pumpkin juice and turkey sandwiches on the table, as well as a pot of coffee.

“We probably should eat first.”

“Is it that bad?”

Harry reaches out and picks a sandwich. He munches for a while before swallowing and answering calmly.

“Well, I guess it depends on what you are expecting.”

“You speak like a politician.”

“Or a Slyterin.” Harry grins and takes a sip of his juice before sobering. “Look, I talked with Ron. He has found Rodolphus Lestrange. He disappeared after the war and we weren’t sure where he went at the time. Well, he’s dead. He was killed in the London suburbs only two years after the war, apparently. The muggle police found his body and wrote in the report that he had been stabbed several times.”

“Good riddance.”

“Why did you suspect him anyway?”

“Because he held us responsible for Bellatrix’s death. Me and my father. He said if we had done our job correctly, the Dark Lord wouldn’t have been defeated and dear aunt Bella would still be alive. He was as mad as her. He… he liked to curse, to hurt people and he was skilled. He used to terrify me as a kid.”

“Well, he’s dead. That’s for Rodolphus.”

“Astoria?”

“I talked to my contact in the International Cooperation Department, Stuart Levy. They managed to track Astoria. She’s there, Draco. She’s in New Zealand.”

“What?”

“She’s not in the neighborhood, but she’s renting a flat in Wizarding Wellington.”

“It can’t be a coincidence.”

“I agree. But it’s kind of good news, Draco.”

“My madman of a father and my ex-wife who can’t stand me have probably taken my son and it’s good news?”

“Think about it. I don’t know what Astoria could want, but she’s no criminal. I doubt she would really hurt Scorpius, and least of all kill him. As for Lucius… What does he want above all?”

“Apart from killing you, you mean? He probably wants to lobotomize me and makes a proper heir out of me.”

“Exactly. As he can’t influence you anymore, I think it’s not impossible that he decided to make Scorpius his rightful heir. Teach him like a pureblood should in his mind. Scorpius is still young, he probably hopes to erase what you taught him.”

“So if you’re right…”

“If I’m right, Scorpius is probably unhappy and held against his will, but safe and sound.”

Draco looks at Harry intently, trying to see what the ex-Auror thinks, trying to be sure if he can really believe what he’s saying.

“What do you think?”

“I believe there is a good possibility for Scorpius to be-“

“No, no. None of that Auror bullshit. What do you think? What is your gut feeling?”

Harry sighs and busies himself with serving coffee for the both of them. Draco waits patiently, and finally, finally, Harry’s eyes lock with his again.

“I think we need to meet with Astoria tomorrow morning. And I’ve already two Aurors watching Lucius’ house night and day from now on.”

HP-HP-HP-HP

“It should be far more awkward to sleep in the same bed, you know.”

“Yeah. We both changed, though. We’re not teenagers raised to be enemies anymore.”

“No, that’s for sure.”

“Draco… Did your father abuse you as a child?”

Draco nearly gasps in surprise.

“Not as a child, no. As a teenager, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘abuse’, doesn’t it?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes. Yes, I was. I couldn’t do as my father and the Dark Lord asked. I passed out during my marking. I… I told my father I wouldn’t marry a Pureblood witch because I’m gay. I was a disgrace in his eyes. I still am. So he tried to beat me into submission. In the end I agreed to marry Astoria because of my mother. She insisted and I was afraid Lucius would hurt her if I didn’t do as requested. I’ve still some scars.”

Harry stays silent for a long time, and Draco wishes he hadn’t blown the candles.

“My relatives didn’t beat me. But they didn’t love me either.”

“I know.”

Draco struggles to find sleep that night, and he’s fairly sure that Harry doesn’t sleep much either.


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you miss the most since you’ve been injured?”

As soon as Draco blurts out the question, he regrets it. Harry’s eyes are suddenly clouded, their usually vibrant green dull and lifeless. The blonde opens his mouth to apologize when the whispered answer makes him shut up.

“Flying. I miss flying. Ron took me with him once, but it’s not the same. Besides, he almost killed us both.”

Draco is reminded of the Fyendfire, of the way he had clung to Harry’s waist, and of how brilliantly natural Harry was on a broom. Maybe he could do something about that, when it’ll be all over. To thank Harry for his help. Weasley isn’t a particularly gifted flyer, from what Draco remembers, and he’s both tall and rather bulky – he’s probably far too heavy to manage flying with someone. Draco, on the other side, is a good flyer, and if he’s quite tall, he’s as lean and toned as he was as a teenager. He could do it. And maybe he could ask Theo to think about a more suitable solution, as well. He’ll have to think about it later.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Draco nods and sips his coffee quietly. If he’s honest with himself, he must admit that he knows exactly why he has asked that question. He doesn’t want to think about Astoria. About Scorpius. His stomach burns weirdly – it has since he’s read that note on Scorpius’ bed – and Draco shifts uncomfortably on his chair.

“What could you tell me about Astoria?”

Of course Harry knows, the bastard. Draco winces and doesn’t miss the dark haired man’s smirk.

“She’s a gold-digging bitch.”

“That much is obvious. And?”

“And... she hates my guts. She knew from the start I was gay. Arranged marriages are common in the pureblood society. Both of us knew it was only a business arrangement between our families, and, if anything, I’m honest about who I am. I told her I couldn’t love her, but I thought we could make the best out of this mess and maybe have a friendship of sorts. But Astoria was somehow convinced she could change me. By the time Scorpius was born, she resented me for not being able to be the husband she wanted, even though I really did my best. She wanted money and fame, she wanted to attend pureblood parties and to show me off like a bloody trophy. I wanted a quiet life and I wanted to become a better man. She despised me for working at the Ministry and for refusing to play a role. It didn’t help that I was completely smitten with my son from the beginning and she was not. She left two weeks after his birth, without so much as a letter. I divorced her a few months after that. She didn’t get anything – no money, no properties, and I got the full custody for Scorpius. I think she hates me even more since then – especially since it became public knowledge that I prefer men.”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s because you don’t listen to gossip or read the wizarding magazines.”

“Probably.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Excuse me?”

Harry is looking genuinely puzzled and Draco almost rolls his eyes.

“Does it bother you to know that I’m gay?”

“Why should it bother me?”

“I didn’t say it should, I only asked if it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Harry smiles softly, and Draco is startled to realize how real and sincere that smile is. How different it seems from the half-hearted grins Harry usually makes. It’s good to see it, though Draco has no idea why the hell it should matter to him what kind of smiles Harry bloody Potter makes. It does, somehow.

“So, anything else I should know about your lovely ex-wife?”

“She cheated on me. I’m not sure how often and with whom, but she did.”

“Are you sure-“

“Yes. Scorpius is my son. The blood wards of the Manor recognized him instantly, and he’s been added to the family tree. Besides, have you looked at him?” Draco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“True. He does look a lot like you. Just less like a... pointy git.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“Did you cheat on her as well during your marriage? Don’t look at me like that, you know I have to ask.”

Draco stops glaring at the annoying prat and sighs heavily.

“No, I didn’t.”

Harry only nods, and they remain silent after that.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco has to remind himself why they’re here, because he sure as hell wants to turn back on his heels and flee.

“Breathe, Draco. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I might.” Draco admits easily. Sometimes he almost forgets who Harry is. Who he is himself. What they used to be. It’s a bit frightening.

“I know it’s hard, and I know you’re worried. But she has to see you. If she really hates you as much as you say, she may lose her temper and let something slip. She’s no Lucius.”

“I know, I know. Let’s do this, Wonder Boy.”

Harry snorts loudly and punches Draco in the thigh none too gently, making the blonde yelp in surprise. A rather high-pitched yelp that is admittedly a little bit embarrassing. Draco glares at Harry, daring him to say something, but the other man only grins before knocking on the door.

Astoria’s building is representative of the woman’s tastes: everything is looking exceedingly expensive and meant to show off – it’s too obvious to be impressive and too flashy to be tasteful.

Astoria opens the door and Draco’s heartbeat reaches new highs. She’s looking almost as she had last time Draco has seen her: tall and slim, with cold eyes and golden hair. Her green silken dress is hugging her forms in all the right places, and Draco guesses she’s still a very beautiful woman. On the outside, of course.

“Oh. Draco. Well, that’s a surprise. What the hell are you doing here?”

The bitch doesn’t even spare a glance at Harry. She smirks at Draco evilly and he wants to slap her, to demand that she tells him where his son is – his son, because he’s never been hers, she never loved him enough for that. Harry must sense his restlessness, because he catches his wrist swiftly and doesn’t release it.

“Mrs Greengrass, could you please let us in? This is an official visit, and I doubt you want us to discuss in the hallway. The neighbors could see.”

That’s apparently exactly what Astoria needed to hear, because she opens the door completely and lets them in. Harry struggles a bit with his wheelchair since the doorframe isn’t very wide - it’s a Muggle building and he has to wheel himself instead of moving the chair with his magic.

“Well, what do you want?”

Harry raises one eyebrow as if to point her rudeness, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Scorpius. Scorpius has been abducted.”

Draco’s voice is breathless and unsteady, and he hates himself for his lack of self-control. Really, he should know better.

“Really?”

She doesn’t even blink. If anything, she’s looking faintly amused, and the need to hit her is stronger than ever.

“Mrs. Greengrass, your son has been missing for almost two weeks now.”

“I may have birthed Scorpius, but he’s no more my son than this disgusting man was my husband.”

“Did you know Scorpius was missing? Did someone contact you?”

“No, Mr. Potter, I was not aware of that fact. ”

She’s lying. She’s lying and she isn’t hiding it. She answers Harry’s questions, but her eyes don’t leave Draco’s.

“Mrs. Greengrass. You may not have raised Scorpius, but he’s only a child. A thirteen years old who is probably terrified and who wants to go home. If you know something, you have to tell us. I understand you’re holding some grudges against Mr. Malfoy, but there are of no relevance right now.”

“Aren’t they?”

“I merely assume you would not use an innocent teenage boy to get revenge on you ex-husband, Mrs. Greengrass.”

Harry’s politeness and the sweetness of his voice have an edge of dangerousness, and it seems like the air around them is suddenly colder. Astoria shivers and closes her eyes for a second.

“I have nothing to tell you. I know nothing.”

“Perhaps you should think about it. I think we will be in the neighborhood tomorrow morning. This is for you.”

Harry hands her an envelope and Astoria gasps as she opens it and sees what’s inside.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Greengrass. Have a nice day.”

Draco wants to say something, but Harry shakes his head and they exit Astoria’s flat.

“What did you give her? What was in that envelope?”

“A picture of Scorpius playing Quidditch.”

“What? Why-“

“Because I wanted to see her reaction. She knows something, that’s for sure, but I think she didn’t see Scorpius since he’s been taken. She was surprised to see how he looks like.”

“There’s something else, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I hope that seeing him will make her reconsider. She might be, as you so elegantly put it, a bitch, but I don’t think she’s evil enough to hurt a child.”

Draco darkly thinks that she might be evil enough, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Harry’s optimism is exactly what they need right now.

HP-HP-HP-HP

The next day, they find Astoria in her living-room. She's barely recognizable, and the whole room reeks of blood and death. She's still clutching Scorpio's picture in her cold hand.

Harry has barely the time to cast an Emergency Call charm for the Auror department before he catches Draco's wrist. The pull of Apparition seems more pronounced than usual.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry feels the anger coming in waves from Draco. It’s not a white hot fury that leads to unpredictable actions. No, it’s more like a cold rage, as serene in its intensity as it is dangerous in its implacability. They Apparate just in front of Lucius’ cottage and Draco lets go of his hand as soon as his feet touch the ground.

Harry knows that the Aurors will follow them as soon as they spot them here – he hasn’t sent his Patronus to tell them everything it’s alright – and he knows that Lucius will expect them to _do_ something. And he hopes it will be enough to convince Lucius to talk. And if it isn’t… Well, if it isn’t enough, Harry won’t stop Draco.

It’s strange how he actually cares about the blonde. There’s something about him, about the man he has become, that calls to Harry. Maybe it’s the fierce love he has for his son – the kind of love Harry wouldn’t have thought Draco Malfoy to be capable of. But then again, there’s much he still doesn’t know about him.

He looks as Draco raises his wand, and flinches as he casts a very strong Reducto on the poor piece of wood. The blonde’s face is calm and stern, but his grey eyes are intently focused. Harry follows him with a sigh, wishing there was another way and knowing there is not.

Lucius is surprised. Well, he is even more surprised to find himself disarmed as soon as he raised his wand against his own son. The dark wood feels cold and strange in Harry’s palm and he almost shudders when he thinks of all that has been done with this wand.

“Really, Lucius, you should know better.”

Draco raises a pale eyebrow and Harry can almost hear his thought _“Really, Harry? Expelliarmus?”_ and Harry just shrugs with a smirk – even if he knows how weird it will look on his face with his damn scar. What does he care how he’s looking anyway?

The two Aurors suddenly barge in just like he knew they would, with wands at the ready and panting breathings.

“Auror Potter?”

“Good morning, Clark. And you know I’m not an Auror anymore.”

“Erm, yes, Sir.” Clark Smith looks around with wide eyes, and Harry knows he’s trying to understand what the hell is going on. “Everything’s alright, Sir?”

“Oh, yes, Clark, thank you.”

“No, everything’s not alright! Potter took my hand and I’m threatened in my own house! Do something, you sorry excuses for wizards!”

Clark quickly glances at his partner – Blythe, or something like that, Harry recalls – and the other nods almost imperceptibly. Clark turns to Harry again, looking both worried and faintly amused.

“I think we’ll wait outside, then, Sir. Call for us if there’s anything you need.”

“Thanks, Clark, I will. Everything that’ll happen here…”

“Will stay here, Sir.”

With that, they slowly get out the room, and Harry would laugh at Lucius stunned expression if he wasn’t so worried about Draco.

“Well, I think we can talk now, Lucius.”

“Don’t call me Lucius, I am your father and you will show me some respect!”

“You are not my father. Where is Scorpius?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lucius, we’ve found Astoria this morning. What have you done?” Harry is speaking as calmly as he can but his right hand twitches on his wand.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. And I will complain to the Ministry”

“And who do you think they will believe, Lucius? You, or me and two Aurors? I may not work for the Ministry anymore, but I’m still Harry Potter. Where is your grandson?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I will make you talk, Lucius.”

Draco’s voice is cold and emotionless, and Harry is suddenly aware of how dangerous this man can be. He has always known, somehow, but it’s evident now.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you disgusting traitor. You’re no match for me.”

“Really? Do you think I didn’t learn from your beatings? Do you think I didn’t recall what you used to do to those poor people at the Manor? Do you think Severus hadn’t taught me anything?”

“Severus was-“

“Severus was a hero. He was a brave man and he was more of a father to me than you’ll ever be. You’re not even allowed to say his name. I’ll ask you one last time, Lucius. Where is my son?”

Lucius laughs, the mad sound echoing in the room, and Harry can feel the spell coming before Draco actually says it.

“Sectumsempra” the younger Malfoy whispers, and Harry can’t help but think of the one time he has used it, and he can’t help thinking of Snape, too.

Blood is soaking Lucius’ shirt, and his cold, cold grey eyes are wide, as though he cannot believe his son has hexed him.

“That was always your weakness, Lucius. You always underestimate your opponent” Harry says softly, and he sees Draco smirking evilly from the corner of his eye.

Whatever happens, he has to make sure Lucius survives. Draco cannot go to Azkaban because of that bastard. Draco cannot become a murderer. Scorpius wouldn’t bear it.

Harry probably wouldn’t bear it either.

Another spell is whispered in the quiet room and Harry’s knuckles are white on his wand.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Harry's POV_ **

_Harry almost feels sorry for Lucius. Almost. He has been hexed and healed so many times now that Harry has lost the count. His hair and clothes are drenched in blood now, and his skin has a greyish tint that probably comes from the blood loss. Draco knows what he's doing, never hurting Lucius enough to allow him to pass out, but hitting him and hexing him where it hurts the most. He doesn't speak apart from the whispered spells, and his eyes are full of tears. Harry knows he has to stop this, because it's hurting Draco, what he's doing to his own father._

_Harry has to focus, because Lucius is weaker now, and his Occlumency shields are weakening. Harry is, at best, an average Legilimens, and Lucius is a good Occlumens – not as good as Severus had been, but strong enough to have normally nothing to fear from Harry._

_But Lucius is tired, he's injured, and he's entirely focusing on his son. He has no idea that Harry is trying to read his mind – and he probably doesn't even know that Harry is able to do it._

_There. Just there... There's something that Lucius is trying to hide more than the rest of his mind – and Merlin knows Harry has seen some things he would like to forget. The shields are stronger, and Harry winces as they efficiently keep his own mind at bay. He has to be careful, because if Lucius feels him prodding his mind, he'll throw Harry out easily._

_Draco hexes Lucius again – a burning hex, Harry guesses from Lucius' scream – and the shields fall._

_"Draco, that's enough." Harry says softly, trying to get the blonde's attention without startling him._

_"It's not. You will tell me where my son is, you soulless bastard, or I swear I'll kill you."_

_"You will not. You're not strong enough, you never were. You are not a murderer." Lucius' sneer is barely visible under the dried blood on his face, but it's there._

_"No, he is not, and he won't kill you because his son needs him, Lucius." Harry moves his wheelchair until he's in front of Lucius, whose broken body is still bound to the chair. "Your son is a good man, and he's not a killer. But I am, Lucius. I am a killer. I have nothing to lose, and nobody's waiting for me. I've learned a lot about Dark Arts during my years as an Auror. I already know where Scorpius is. But if you willingly confess everything to the Aurors who are waiting outside, I'll let them heal you and take you into custody safely. If not, I'll take care of you while Draco goes to find his son. I don't want him to watch that anyway. And I'll kill you, Lucius."_

_"You won't."_

_"Oh, but I will. You have no idea who I am. You have no idea what I'm capable of." Harry smiles sweetly and puts his wand back into its holster on his left forearm. A flick of his hand, and all the lights are out. Another one, and there's a rope slowly strangling Lucius. "You still see me as the teenager who killed the Dark Lord. But that was years ago, Lucius." Harry casts another spell, one that will make Lucius relive every murder he's committed from his victims' eyes. Harry is particularly fond of it. He leans forward, whispering in Lucius' ear. "I'll do anything to protect the ones I care for, Lucius. And I'll do what I need to do to punish those who hurt them. Unfortunately for you, I care about your son and your grandson. Very much so. Will you talk now?"_

_The aging blonde man nods slowly, his eyes wide as he sees what he's done over and over again. Harry sighs and lifts the spell._

_"Draco, could you please ask the Aurors to come in? Then I'll take you to Scorpius."_

_He doesn't look at Draco, because he doesn't want to see his expression. It doesn't matter anyway. It hurts, though. It shouldn't, but it hurts._

HP-HP-HP-HP

**Draco's POV**

Draco watches with wide eyes as his father is being strangled by Harry's conjured rope. The dark haired man whispers something in Lucius' ear and Draco nearly gasps out loud at the barely hidden terror in the cold grey eyes. Lucius nods, and Draco hopes it means he agrees, because he just wants to go to his son. Harry knows where he is, he said so, and they're losing time.

"Draco, could you please ask the Aurors to come in? Then I'll take you to Scorpius."

Harry doesn't look at him, he stares stubbornly at his hands, and Draco knows they'll have to talk about everything that happened there. About the way he has hurt his own father for what seemed like hours, cutting and burning his skin, punching his arrogant face and carving Scorpius' name in his chest, healing him just to do it again. About the way Harry has threatened to kill Lucius for Draco. About the fact that he seems to think that nobody would miss him if he were to die or to be imprisoned. About the way Harry fiercely stands up for Draco and Scorpius in a way no one has before.

The two Aurors come in. The one who Harry has called Clark only raises his eyebrows when he spots Lucius, but the other one gags, a hand over his mouth. Harry whispers something to Clark, and the man nods quietly. Then Harry leaves the room and makes his way outside, and Draco follows, feeling numb and feverish at the same time.

"You said you know where he is."

"I know."

"How?"

"I read Lucius' mind. He's a good Occlumens, but he was weak and too busy to keep his shields up. I'm fairly confident that I can Apparate us to the house. I've seen it clearly enough."

"Let's go, then. Please."

Draco takes both Harry's hands in his, trying to show him how he feels, but Harry's still not looking at him. Draco closes his eyes and thinks of Scorpius, praying to whatever deity there is that his son is safe and sound. They're suddenly in a dark hallway, and Harry frees himself from Draco's grasp. He follows the wheelchair blindly, his mind unable to process the thought that his son may be here, just here behind one of those doors... And Harry opens a door with one of his annoying flicks of the hand, and a small voice asks "Professor?" and Draco runs, he runs until he crushes his son to his chest. They fall to the ground, desperately holding each other and Draco can't hold back a sob of relief, and it doesn't matter because Scorpius is here and he's alive and the rest of the world can go to hell for all he cares.

Scorpius is shaking and there's a nasty bruise on his cheek, but he seems alright. His hair are slicked back like Draco's used to be when he was in school and he's wearing black dress robes. Apparently Harry has been right, and Lucius has been trying to make a proper Malfoy heir out of Scorpius.

"Hey, son, are you okay?"

"Yes Dad. I thought you weren't going to find me, I couldn't write or anything, he made me stay here all the time. I tried to escape once but he caught me."

Scorpius' crying now and Draco slowly rubs his back.

"I will always come for you, Scorpius. I wouldn't have stopped looking for you."

"Why is Professor Potter with you?"

"He's the one who helped me to find you."

Scorpius smiles tentatively to Harry, who's still at the door.

"Hello Scorpius. I'm glad you're safe. Draco, we shouldn't stay here."

Harry raises a hand, palm up, and Draco stands up, an arm around his son. He takes Harry's hand and lets him Apparate them away. They're back in the inn's room and Draco sighs in relief, hugging Scorpius once more, closing his eyes as he breathes in his son's scent, familiar and sweet.

As he opens his eyes again, Harry's gone.


	13. Chapter 13

"Come on, Scorpius, I promise you've just to tell this once, and then nobody will bother you with it again. You won't have to go to the trial."

The Auror – Clark, Draco recalls - smiles kindly to his son, and Draco can practically see Scorpius' mind working like crazy to decide the best course of action. No wonder the boy is a Ravenclaw.

"I'll tell you everything if you promise my dad and Professor Potter won't get in any trouble for whatever they've done to get me out."

Draco bits his lower lip to avoid laughing out loud. Scorpius would have done well in Slytherin, if that little act of shameless cunning is any clue. Scorpius is looking at the Auror expectantly, a mixture of heartbreaking innocence and devious cleverness in his eyes.

Clark looks up to Draco with a knowing smirk and chuckles.

"You've got a smart boy, Mr. Malfoy. Scorpius, you don't have to worry about that. Auror Potter- I mean Professor Potter has already made sure nothing can be held against your father."

And that's actually a surprise, because Draco hasn't been able to reach the dark haired man since they've come back from New Zealand with Scorpius. Harry has left Hogwarts to spend what's left of his holiday in an "undisclosed location", as Headmaster McGonagall has told Draco with a disapproving pinch of her slim lips. Apparently he took the time to clear things with the Auror Department before leaving.

"Dad?"

"It's alright, Scorpius."

"Okay..." Scorpius sighs and seems to steel himself. Draco's heart clenches painfully at the sight. "I was in my room, writing a letter to my g- to a friend of mine. And Lucius Apparated straight before me. At first I didn't even want to talk to him, I've always hated the things he used to tell Dad and the things he wanted me to do. But... he said... he said he had found my Mum. He said... she wanted to see me, and she was sorry and I just... I'm so sorry, Dad! I agreed to come with him. I'm sorry" Scorpius whispers again, and Draco kneels before his son, grateful for the way the Auror turns his head away to allow them some privacy.

"Scorpius, none of this is your fault."

"I just wanted a chance to talk to her. You know, to see if she... if she maybe didn't hate me." Scorpius' grey eyes are full of tears and Draco takes his son's face between his hands.

"Son, listen to me: your mother never hated you. She probably wasn't ready to become a mum and she made a mistake by running away. But I'm sure she would be very proud of you, and she would have loved you as much as I do if she had had the chance to know you. And I understand why you went with Lucius, I'm not angry at you."

Scorpius nods and sniffs a little. Draco stands up again and meets Clark's kind eyes, who smiles from his chair and clears his throat.

"Alright, Scorpius. So, you agreed to go with your grandfather."

"Please don't call him that."

"Sorry. What did Lucius do?"

"He left a note on my bed. I didn't read it, he said it was only to tell my father not to worry. He said Dad wouldn't agree to let me see my mother and we had to Apparate straight away. Which we did. We were in the alley behind our building when he said he had a Portkey, and then we were gone."

Clarks nods, a smile still on his lips, and Draco sees Scorpius' eyes quickly travel from himself to the man in front of him.

"He locked me in the room where Professor Potter found as soon as we reached the house." Scorpius closes his eyes. "I realized immediately that I'd been a stupid child and I tried everything I could think of to escape. Lucius wanted me to wear certain clothes, and to keep my hair slicked back. He kept on speaking about purebloods and proper behavior, and how we should eat and speak. Told me how I would become his heir and he would get rid of Dad one way or another. He scared me. I think he's crazy. Well, was crazy." Scorpius takes a shaky intake of breath. "He tried to make me do what he wanted me to do by telling me he would allow my mother to visit me. I don't think she would have anyway. I think I lost the count of the days, and one day Professor Potter and Dad came to rescue me. That's it, really."

"You've done well, Scorpius, thank you. I've still some questions, and I'm sorry but I have to ask and you have to answer truthfully, it's very important. I hope you understand that."

"I know. Dad told me I'd have to."

"Alright. Did Lucius hurt you in any way?"

Draco feels his nails dig into his palms and tries to get his breathe under control. Scorpius gives him a pained look and Draco tries to smile reassuringly – damnit, he's the adult, he's the father, he has to keep a cool head. He'll think about ways to kill Lucius later.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Did he starve you or forbid you to go to the toilet for example?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Did he hit you?"

"No-well, yes. He slapped me once. I tried to escape. He was really angry, at first I thought he was going to kill me." Scorpius shudders helplessly and Clark puts a comforting hand on his knee.

"I know it's hard, Scorpius. You're very brave. Did Lucius make you do things you were uncomfortable with?"

Draco tenses as Scorpius looks at the Auror with wide eyes. He looks lost, his forehead creased in confusion. Thank Merlin, Draco thinks. He doesn't understand the question.

"Well... he made me eat with that ridiculous cutlery. I had to eat even fruit with it! It's stupid, if you ask me, to try and eat a banana with a bloody fork and a knife."

Auror Clark chokes back a laugh and exchanges a relieved glance with Draco.

"Very well, Scorpius. You can go back to your room, there's something I have to discuss with your father."

Scorpius nods and leaves the room quickly, apparently relieved that it's over.

"Mr Malfoy, as I said earlier, Scorpius will not have to testify during the trial. Mr Potter has been very insistent on that point. You'll have to testify, though but nothing you will say will be held against you. And he has been even more insistent on that one." Clark chuckles and looks at Draco curiously. "Well, anyway, it'll take place next week. It should have taken longer, you know how bureaucrats are, but-"

"Yes, I get it. Potter has played his Savior card once more."

"That he did. I'll see you then, Mr Malfoy."

"Goodbye. And... thank you."

Clark nods with a boyish grin that oddly reminds Draco of Harry's teenage self, before leaving the flat.

He has to speak with Harry before the trial, even if the damn idiot has locked himself Merlin knows who.

Maybe it's time to use his Slytherin traits.


	14. Chapter 14

No amount of Slytherin cunning is enough to find Harry before the trial. Apparently the bloody Savior has learned a thing or two during his Auror years, and is able to simply disappear. To hide somewhere for some reason that Draco doesn't understand. Hermione has shaken her head sadly and told Draco that it's something Harry sometimes does. That he will be back soon enough. That he needs to be left alone and will be back when he's ready. That he won't miss the trial, because he'll want to testify and to do what's right.  
Draco has almost rolled his eyes and kept on searching the idiot anyway. To no avail, obviously. It's irritating.

So there he is, sitting next to Hermione in front of the whole Wizengamot – because she insisted, of course, like the noble Gryffindor she is and Draco wouldn't admit it, but it's good to feel her friendly presence next to him. Lucius is glaring at the crowd from his chair, the chains that are restraining him clicking from time to time.

"Don't worry, he'll come" Hermione whispers in his ear, and Draco nods stiffly, unable to blink. The sight of Lucius here, it's almost too much. In a good way.

The Chief Warlock speaks, but Draco doesn't really hear anything. He testifies, standing tall before the court, trying to keep the emotions at bay as he explains what happened and how Harry and him have found his son. He explains how Astoria has been killed, and has to close his eyes to make the image of her bloodied body disappear. Lucius had probably promised her money if she helped him. She had organized his arrival in New Zealand, bought the house for him. But she refused to see her son and to help him with the boy. She was such a fool to trust Lucius. As soon as he had understood that she would betray him, he had killed her. Draco feels the familiar pang in his chest when he thinks about her, and about Scorpius who'll never get the chance to get to know his mother.

Some members of the Wizengamot whisper between them, and he knows they're wondering if he's to be trusted. The shadow of his past still follows him everywhere, apparently – not that he doesn't deserve it, but right now he would like them to see him only as a father. He doesn't look at Lucius, not when he testifies, not when he goes back to his seat. Hermione squeezes his hand once, and when she tries to release him, he squeezes back, hoping she'll understand. She does, and she keeps on holding his hand as Auror Clark Smith testifies and reads what Scorpius has told him out loud.

Finally, Harry Potter is called as witness, and the court is suddenly eerily silent. And here he is, his wheelchair hovering without a sound. Furious whispers follow his appearance, and Draco sees the looks the dark haired man is getting. He sees the barely concealed disgust. The admiration mixed with a revolting kind of pity, and the fear hidden behind the fake hero-worship.

How dare they? How dare they looking at that man that way? He saved them all when he killed Voldemort, a mere teenager whose school years were spent fighting to stay alive. He's spent most of his life protecting them as an Auror. He's lost his legs and is badly scarred because he never stopped fighting for them. He's better than all of them, and this is how they repay him?

"I know. It's awful. Harry always says it doesn't matter, but I think it hurts him anyway."

Hermione's whispered words are full of sorrow and Draco's fingers tighten around her small hand. Suddenly he knows what he wants to do. He barely listens to Harry's testimonial, because he's too busy scheming his next move and looking at the way the black tresses fall around Harry's face, or the way he sometimes talk with his hands. Draco finally understand why he has called Harry beautiful when he was drunk out of his mind.

Harry seems calm and composed, his deep voice is steady and his words are precise, but his eyes are burning with something dangerous and fierce. Draco wonders if the others see it. Probably not, if they're still ogling his scar or his too-thin legs. Morons, all of them.  
Harry has given too much, all his life. It's high time he learns to receive. It's high time he learns to enjoy himself.

And that's something Draco can do.

Lucius is given a lifetime sentence and Draco smiles. Good. Let the bastard rot in Azkaban. Lucius doesn't even react and lets the Aurors take him out without a word.

Harry is already gone, by the time Hermione and Draco get out of the courtroom, but the blonde keeps on smiling.

"Draco, stop smiling like that. It's slightly creepy."

"What? Oh! Well, I'm creepy. Evil Death Eater and all, remember?"

"Shut it. What are you planning in that Slytherin mind of yours?"

"Nothing."

"I know you, Draco. It's about Harry, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Draco..." Hermione sighs and bits her lip with a worried glance. "Just... be careful with Harry, okay? He's... he's much more fragile than he looks."

"Don't worry. I won't hurt him. I just think he deserves better from life than what he has now. I can't give him his legs back or make his scars disappear, but I want to help him anyway."

"Why?" Hermione's face is suddenly concerned and serious, and Draco is reminded of Minerva McGonagall's stern features. "Is it your way to repay him for what he's done for you? Because I don't think he will take it kindly, I mean he's rather-"

"I want to help him because I like him, as weird as it is. I have very few friends, but I care for them as best as I can, and I won't have one of my friends living like that."

"You care for him?"

Draco rolls his eyes and lifts an eyebrow. Hermione chuckles quietly.

"Alright, I won't make you say it again. But if you hurt him, I-"

"Yes, yes, you'll dismember me and feed the pieces to one of Charlie Weasley's dragons, I get it. Now let me think in peace, boss."

"Wanker."

"You love me, Granger."

"That I do, you prat. And I'd love you even more if you manage to make Harry enjoy himself from time to time."

Draco only smiles, and Hermione smiles back.

He has a Firecall to make. And he has to talk with Scorpius. He doesn't even notice the way people keep away from him on his way out of the Ministry or the way their eyes widen when they see his shark-like smile and the determined look in his eyes.

They're not worth his attention anyway.


	15. Chapter 15

Draco doesn’t even bother with knocking at the door. He knows the damn idiot is in there, McGonagall has confirmed it, and he has no intention to allow him to find an escape route.

“Hey, Harry, how are you doing? Good, you’re already in Muggle clothes. Let’s go, I haven’t all day. Well, technically I have, but we’ve got things to do and places to be.”

The dark haired man is behind his desk, apparently busy grading papers, and is looking at Draco with wide eyes, his mouth agape and his hands frozen above what seems to be a first year’s essay. Ink is dripping from his quill, ruining the poor kid’s work.

“Harry, put that quill down or you won’t be able to read anything that poor student has written.”

Harry gets out of his stupor and shakes his head.

“What are you doing here, Dra- Mr Malfoy? Is something wrong with Scorpius?”

Draco rolls his eyes.

“Honestly, Harry, you’re ridiculously thick sometimes. Nothing’s wrong with Scorpius – well, if I overlook the fact that I found him snogging Rose Weasley in a corridor, that is – and I thought we were on a first name basis. Come on, now.”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I can’t leave Hogwarts anyway. I have work to do and I’m going to Hogsmead with the kids this afternoon, so-“

“It’s alright, I spoke to McGonagall and someone else will go. Since you’ve skillfully avoided me since New Zealand, I thought I would corner you here. I promise nothing will happen to you – not that you couldn’t hex me into next century should I try anything anyway – and you might even enjoy the day.”

“Draco, what do you want?”

“Nothing. It’s not about what I want. It’s about you. I think you deserve to have some fun, and there’s something that you need to see. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Harry raises an eyebrow in a way that weirdly reminds Draco of Severus.

“If you’re having a bad time, then I’ll give up and leave you alone, I swear. I just thought… I thought we were kind of… friends, I suppose. I don’t know why you’ve been avoiding me lately. I didn’t even get to thank you properly for everything you’ve done for my family.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you… I just…” Harry sighs and closes his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting from me, but there’s nothing-“

“I’m not expecting anything from you. I just want to give you something. Stop being a coward – that’s what I’m supposed to be, not you - and take a risk, for fuck’s sake! What are you hiding from?”

Something flashes in Harry’s eyes, and it’s obvious that the feeling is powerful, even behind the glasses. Is it anger? Frustration? Something else entirely?

“Are you that convinced that I’m not to be trusted? That I’m somehow trying to hurt you?”

“No. No, I’m not. It’s just… I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand. No hidden agenda, no evil plan. Just a friend who’s asking you to spend some time with him. I think you’ll have a good time. When was the last time you’ve had a nice day with a friend?”

Harry bits his lower lip and absently rubs the scar on his cheek. Then he nods, slowly, deliberately, as if he’s trying to convince himself that it is actually a good idea, and Draco nearly sighs in relief.

“Great. Have you a coat or a warm jumper somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a Weasley jumper in my desk for the cold evenings. Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to catch a cold. McGonagall would have my head, not to mention Hermione.”

Harry follows him in the corridors of Hogwarts – it’s still early, especially for a Saturday morning and the school is very quiet. They reach the gates and Draco turns around.

“Do you trust me to Apparate us away?”

“I think I do, yes.”

“Great. Great. Let’s go, then.”

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry is looking around them in awe. Draco has carefully chosen the location: a deserted hill in Scotland, with a breathtaking view over a nice valley. He unshrinks his broom and winces when he sees Harry’s deep frown.

“Draco…”

“I’m taking you for a flight. Wait, listen to me, okay? I know your last experience with Weasley wasn’t a good one, but you know I’m a far better flyer. And I’m lighter as well. I can manage it. I know I can.”

“I… Look, I appreciate the thought, really, but… I’m nearly forty and I think it doesn’t matter if I can’t fly anymore. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to. And what’s that bullshit with your age? Why shouldn’t you having some fun because you’re a grown man? It’s ridiculous. Back to the point, would you be more comfortable if I’d carry you or if I’d Levitate you?”

Harry seems to be taken aback by the question. He looks at Draco for an agonizing long time, searching for something, and then smiles softly.

“I’d prefer if you’d carry me, if you don’t mind. I don’t like being Levitated. Makes me feel like a… like a thing, and not a person.”

Draco only nods – he can understand that. He quickly makes his broom hover at the adequate height before carefully taking Harry in his arms. When they’re both settled on the broom, his right arm wrapped around Harry’s slim waist and both of Harry’s hands holding the shaft, Draco pushes on his feet, and they’re gone.

At first it’s like they’re both holding their breaths, waiting for something bad to happen. Then Harry gradually relaxes against Draco’s chest, and the blonde feels more confident. They fly for a long time, until their fingers are completely chilled, because Draco wants Harry to enjoy it as much as he can.

They land softly next to Harry’s wheelchair, and Draco carefully maneuvers the other man back in his chair.

“So? Not too bad, was it?”

“Draco… I can’t… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Draco knows his grin is way too smug, but he doesn’t particularly care right now, and he cares even less when Harry smiles knowingly, his eyes alive and happy. “I thought we could have lunch at the Three Broomsticks. We’ve got an appointment later, but there’s enough time.”

“You’re considering eating in a pub? You?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Besides, Hermione told me it’s your favorite.”

“Done your homework, didn’t you?”

“I’ve always been a good student.”

Harry snorts and nods.

Maybe it won’t be that hard.

Lunch is quiet but friendly. Some patrons are staring at Harry rather rudely, but Draco’s patented glare of death is as efficient as ever and they’re left in peace. The food is appalling and Harry seems to love it, if the childish grin and greased fingers are anything to go by.

“So, if you’re done eating like a mongrel, we’re going.”

“Shut up, Draco. Where are we going anyway?”

“To meet Theo.”

“As in Theodore Nott?”

“Yeah. He’s working for Firebolt, did you know? He’s a designer. I asked him to work on a customized broom for me and I want to see what he’s done.”

“A customized Firebolt? I swear Draco, it’s a wonder you still manage to get through doors with that ego of yours.”

“It’s part of my charm. Shall we?”

“I suppose so.”

HP-HP-HP-HP

Theo is as cool and composed as ever. He smirks at Draco before smiling somewhat kindly to Harry.

“Hello, Potter.

“Nott.”

“So, Theo, could you show us the prototype?”

“Yes. We’ve still some adjustments to do, but it’s always better to work on that with the future owner anyway.”

Harry is looking at Theo with polite interest and Draco chuckles inwardly.

“So ladies and gentlemen – well, gentlemen, I guess – here’s the Special Harry Potter Firebolt.”

Draco does chuckle at Harry’s stunned expression. He’s looking dumbly from Theo to Draco to Theo again.

“Wait,what?”

“Draco asked me to think about a broom specifically designed for you. I thought it would be a fantastic project, actually. If it’s good enough, we want to work on a range of brooms for disabled wizards and witches.”

“I… Uh… You mean… it’s a broom I could drive on my own?”

“Yes, absolutely. Want to try it?”

“You bet I do!”

Harry’s face is suddenly glowing with happiness, his cheeks pink with excitement and challenge. Theo grins and lets Draco helps Harry out of his chair. The customized broom has handles that allows the driver to control direction and speed, and two metal leg holders.

“How do feel on it? Is it comfortable enough? You have to tell me all your impressions, so that we can improve it.”

“Honestly? It feels amazing. I can’t believe it.”

“Good. Try it, then.”

And then Harry is flying, his deep laugh filling the air around them, and Theo and Draco can’t do anything but look at him and smile like first year Huffelpuffs, because it’s wonderful just to look at him.

And Draco knows he’s done the right thing, and it’s a fucking good feeling.


	16. Chapter 16

_Harry holds his breath as Draco helps him back in his chair, looking at the blonde's features. There's smugness on his handsome face, of course there is – Draco's carefully planned day has been a success and he's still his arrogant self, not matter how much he's changed – but there's honest contentment as well, and a slightly disturbing kind of tenderness._

_And then there's the fact that he seems to know how to deal with Harry's disability with a natural ease that's disconcerting – especially considering that this is Draco fucking Malfoy. But he does. He asks Harry when he's not sure of something, and never makes a big deal of it. And when he carries him... It's with enough care for Harry to feel safe, but with enough aloofness for him to be at ease. Harry doesn't feel diminished when Draco's around. The blonde's sharp tongue and cool wits doesn't spare him in the least, and Merlin, but he's insanely grateful for it. And he has proved today that he doesn't think that Harry's useless legs shouldn't stop him from doing anything. He just has to find other means to do it._

_Harry smiles to Theo and thanks him. He asks about the price, but Theo shakes his head and tells him that Malfoy's foundation is paying for his broom, and will pay for the development of the whole new range of brooms for disabled wizards and witches. Harry blinks and looks up at Draco, whose face is now a deep pink, and who's apparently trying to kill Theo with the force of his glare._

_"He doesn't want people to know, but Draco isn't really a misanthropic bastard, you know."_

_"Yes. I know."_

_Draco blushes harder and Harry finds it curiously endearing._

_He still doesn't understand why Draco is doing whatever it is he's doing, but right now he doesn't want to think too much about that. He has had a wonderful day. Flying has always made him feel free and happy. Now that he can't walk anymore, the feeling is even stronger._

_If he's honest, he must admit that flying with Draco this morning has been even nicer than flying on his own with Theo's customized broom. Of course he likes being able to fly like he's not disabled, like nothing has really changed, but... It has been nice to let Draco take control. To trust him to keep them both safe – and Draco is an amazing flyer, he always has been – and to enjoy the flight without thinking of anything else. Draco has been warm and solid against his back, and both the physical proximity and the fact that they were enjoying the moment together, like two friends, have touched Harry deeply._

_Because he misses both._

_And he didn't even realize how much until today._

_Draco Apparates them both in front of Hogwarts gates, and they make their way silently through the castle until they're in front of Harry's office. Harry is feeling incomprehensibly nervous and his right hand is shaking – it always does when he's too stressed._

_"Are you alright? Your hand is shaking. Was today too much?"_

_Draco sounds sincerely concerned and Harry quickly shakes his head._

_"No! No. It was... Thank you. It's probably the best Saturday I've had in ages. I don't know why you're doing this, but I really appreciated it. So, yeah. Thank you."_

_Fuck, he's making such an awkward fool of himself right now._

_"Good. I'll pick you up at noon next Saturday. See you, Harry!"_

_"What? No, Draco, wait!"_

_But the infuriating blonde is already gone, his satisfied chuckle still lingering in the hallway, and Harry is left to wonder what the hell he has gotten himself into._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy angst, or angsty fluff.

“Stop that, Harry, you’re ruining your tie. What the hell are you even trying to do?”

“Trying to fix my tie, what do you think I’m doing?” Harry snaps while his hands are still tugging at his silken tie.

“Well, you’ll only mess it up more. Let me.”

Draco kneels before Harry, and calmly straightens his tie – emerald green, Draco has chosen it especially and it looks stunning on the dark haired man. Harry is looking down at him with a mixture of worried curiosity and mild confusion – it’s been that way since Draco has taken him to fly that first Saturday, four weeks ago. Draco smirks and stands up.

“There. You’re very handsome tonight, you know.”

“Very funny. Look, you should go without me, I’m-“

“No way, Harry. I can’t go alone, how would that look like? Besides, you’ll like it.”

“I hate official dinners.”

“Yes, but this one is special. My foundation organizes it and Theo will present the new brooms.”

“Is that why you’re being so nice to me? Because you need me to raise funds for your foundation?”

Harry’s expression is almost comical. He’s looking relieved. Actually relieved, the fucking idiot. As if the idea of Draco using him that way is somehow less disturbing than the fact that he could do it because he just want to. Draco rolls his eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Potter, and I feel really insulted. Of course not! Nobody even knows you’re coming. I just thought you would be interested in that cause, and because it’s usually a nice dinner with reasonably nice people.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on dragging me somewhere every Saturday.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry! I actually like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. You seemed to enjoy the other times well enough.”

“Yes, but it was just the two of us.”

The quiet admission leaves Draco with a warm feel in his chest – it’s quite ridiculous, honestly, for a grown man to act like a fourteen years-old with his first – and unrequited - crush, but it’s rather… refreshing, as well.

“Is that what it is about? You’re afraid of crowds?”

“Not really, I just… don’t feel comfortable in that type of events. Never did. You really should go with someone else, Draco I’ll only-“

“Shut up, Harry. I promise no one will bother you. And if someone actually does, I’ll have them killed.”

“What?”

“Relax, I’m only joking. Honestly, Harry, who do you take me for? Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late. Fashionably late is one thing, we-missed-the-main-course-late is another.”

“I could be horribly rude to everyone and make sexual jokes during dessert to embarrass you.”

“You won’t. I’m not even sure you know any sexual joke.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You like it. Come now.”

HP-HP-HP-HP

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all. Harry is very still next to him, stubbornly focused on eating, and everybody else is… well, looking at him. Fuck. Draco gently touches Harry’s knee to get his attention and whispers in his ear.

“I’ll go and make my speech. Then people will begin to dance and we’ll go if you want to. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t want to see the look in his friend’s eyes, so he just stands up and walks away, getting on the stage and thankfully receiving most of the stares now. He quickly thanks everyone for coming tonight, and introduces Theo, who’s smirking at him in his black tuxedo.

When he’s done and Theo is explaining what his company and Draco’s foundation have been working on, Draco silently makes his way back to his seat, letting out a sigh of relief.

“How long have you had that foundation?”

“Oh! Twelve years ago.”

“What does it do exactly?”

“We’re trying to make the Wizarding World take better care of its orphans. Helping future parents to adopt. Offering financial support for Hogwarts. Building new orphanages. That type of things.”

“I see. And what’s with the brooms now?”

“Coincidentally – or not – a rather high percentage of those orphans are disabled. It’s rather taboo in our world, you know. Well, anyway, I didn’t realize we could do something about that until you told me about how you missed flying. I talked to Theo, he agreed to work on a prototype for you at first.”

Harry’s looking at him strangely, something Draco cannot decipher in the green orbs, some kind of emotion that Draco has never seen before.

“I’m glad I came, then.”

“Would you like to dance?” Draco blurts out suddenly, and fuck, where the hell does that come from?

“Er… what?”

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Draco, I can’t dance.”

“Of course you can. Are we wizards or not? Let’s show those idiots that there’s nothing you can’t do. Do you trust me?”

Harry seems both amused and appalled at the idea. Finally, he nods, and Draco smiles as gently as he can before casting a Feather-Light Charm on the dark haired man. He leans forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s strong upper body and murmurs in his ear “hold on to me”. Harry does, and soon they’re dancing. Well, Draco is dancing, and Harry is wrapped in his embrace, Draco’s taller frame allowing his legs to hang limply above the ground.

“Alright there?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Because I rather like it, I think we’ll do it again.”

“Presumptuous much?”

“Justifiably self-confident.”

Harry chuckles against the skin of his neck, and Draco shivers. Shit, what is he doing? It feels far too good, and it’s wrong, it’s wrong because Draco suddenly wants much more than Harry is willing to give, so much more.

“There’s a young man over there who can’t stop looking at you, Draco.”

“What?”

“Next to Susan Bones. The chestnut haired. Do you know him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He seems nice. Maybe you should ask him for a dance.”

“Is it your way of telling me you’ve had enough and don’t want to be pictured in the Prophet dancing with me tomorrow?”

“What? No. Merlin knows I don’t care about that. I just thought you might want to… erm… get to know him. He seems interested.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I spoke to Scorpius last week. He told me he’s happy that we’re spending time together on week-ends, because he has been worried about you. Because he thought you’ve been lonely for a long time. I think you deserve to find someone. You don’t have to spend your free time with me.”

“You’re bloody annoying, Harry. Shut up and dance.”

“I can’t. I’m just hanging there like a ridiculous doll. Go and ask someone else.”

“Don’t you enjoy it? If you don’t, I’ll gladly let you sit again.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

“For fuck’s sake, just relax and let go for a moment, will you? I happen to like it” probably far more than he should, actually “and I’d like to listen to this song.”

Harry does shut up, and Draco closes his eyes and listens to the beautiful song, enjoying the feel of having Harry’s warm and strong body in his arms, of smelling his cologne and the musky scent of his skin. When the song ends, he opens his eyes with a satisfied smile and draws back to take a look at his dance partner.

Harry’s looking slightly dazed, with his pink cheeks and his half-smile, and at the same time there’s a fetching intensity in his eyes. Draco barely fights the overwhelming need to kiss him senseless, to show all those morons who are gaping at them that Harry is his and that they can bloody well look at them all they want. But Harry isn’t his, and he knows it. He gently takes Harry back to his chair, helping him to sit with even more care than usual.

Someone behind them whispers “it’s such a shame, he was such a handsome young man. Those scars are completely disfiguring him now, and of course there’s the wheelchair… Some say he’s not completely himself anymore. Too many fights and dark spells, you know.”

Harry is looking at him with a somewhat sad smile and a challenging gleam in his eyes. Draco raises an eyebrow. Harry smirks. Draco smirks back.

“Well, my lady, I’m sorry I’m such an offense to your eyes. I should probably have taken better care of myself, but I’ve been quite… busy all those years. You know, fighting evil wizards and all those things. Of course it’s nothing as important as what you’re doing on a daily basis, Mrs… er whatever your name is. Draco, I think I’ll be on my way, if you don’t mind.”

Draco chokes back a laugh and nods, following the hovering wheelchair out of the crowded ballroom. The air outside is crisp and the dark sky is clear, allowing them to see the stars.

“I should have resigned years ago.”

Draco is a bit surprised but doesn’t say anything - if Harry wants to talk, he’ll listen.

“Hermione kept on telling me I should. Even Ron had started to back her up on that one. I had nothing but my job, you know? It’s rather pathetic when you think about it. I worked and worked and worked, until I got injured and had to take a few days off to heal. And then I’d be back again. The truth is… I didn’t know what to do with my life. I’ve been alone most of my adult life, and my friends are busy. Being an Auror was all I got.”

Harry wraps his arms around himself and Draco belatedly casts a Warming Charm on them, and then a few privacy charms. He doesn’t want to see Harry’s confession all over the Prophet the next day.

“I felt… useful, at least. I thought this was what I had to do, what people wanted me to do. But in the end… it destroyed me and I’ve nothing left. Well, that’s not true. I love being a teacher. I should have accepted Minerva’s offer years ago.”

“Are you done with the self-pity?”

Harry laughs and looks up.

“Yeah. I think I’m done.”

“You’re an idiot. You’ve given too much to this world already. But that doesn’t mean you’re destroyed. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’re not. You’re a strong and brave man, no matter what. And I meant what I said earlier. I think you look very handsome tonight.”

Harry blinks owlishly. Draco chuckles.

Then he bents down and kisses the dark haired man slightly on the lips, so lightly that it’s barely a kiss, but it makes his heart stop all the same.

“Tell the others to go fuck themselves. You’re better than any of them. You deserve everything you want and more. I think I’ll go back to my guests now. Good night, Harry.”

And Draco turns around and doesn’t look back, because he doesn’t want to do anything stupid. He’s done enough of that for tonight.

Not that it wasn’t worth it, mind you. His lips still tingle with the memory of that brush of lips that has been more than a peck and less than a kiss.

He’s in such a fucking mess.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry is lying beside him in the damp grass, breathless and flushed and fucking beautiful, and Draco feels that sharp pang in his chest that's becoming disturbingly familiar now.

"Merlin, that felt good. I hadn't played Quidditch in ages. Even before I got injured, I didn't play anymore... You're still as good as you were in Hogwarts, you know."

"You're not so bad yourself. And I'm sure you're going to improve your moves when you'll be used to that broom."

"Thanks for that. You have no idea what it means to me to be able to fly again."

"Don't mention it. It's fun for me as well to have a decent flyer to play with. Of course I'm better, but that's to be expected."

Harry grins and hits Draco on the shoulder.

"Hey!"

"You're a prat."

"You love it."

"Shut it. Could you help me back in my chair? I'm chilled now."

"Yes, your Saviorness. Anything for the great Harry Potter, of course."

"Watch it, Malfoy. I could hex you."

"Your wand is in your backpack, which is hanging on your wheelchair. I'm perfectly safe."

"I don't need a wand to hex you."

"Fuck, I always forget that point. Very well, I bow to your superior magical skills." Draco turns on his side before kneeling next to the dark haired man, who's already sitting and raising his arms to allow Draco to carry him. Draco gathers him in his arms before whispering. "But I'm still a better flyer."

"Only because I'm fucking paralized!" Harry snorts and pinches Draco's neck.

"We're not talking about your sorry excuses. And stop manhandling me like that or I'll let you drop. I'll have you know my skin is very delicate. I bruise easily."

"You're so annoying, I swear sometimes I don't know why I put up with you."

Draco laughs at the familiar banter and suddenly Harry's hold becomes tighter, and he buries his face in the crook of the blonde's neck. The change of mood is so sudden that Draco almost stumbles. Luckily he doesn't, and he settles Harry safely in his chair.

"Harry? What's bothering you?"

"I think we should stop seeing each other so often."

"What? Why?"

"Draco, I appreciate what you're doing. But... I can't depend too much on someone. Soon enough you're going to get tired of hanging out with me and I'm not sure how I will handle it. You've spent every Saturday with me for months now! It's too much. And people are starting to talk. We've been seen too many times together. I think we should stop it now before it gets out of control."

Draco smiles bitterly. Of course, that's what it is about. He should have known, really, it's stupid from his part to have expected something else.

"I see. It was alright to have me as your friend as long as nobody knew it, right?"

"No, Draco, it's not what-"

"Save it, Potter, I've heard it before. I think you'll be fine Apparating on your own to Hogwarts. We wouldn't want people to think you're spending time with a gay Death Eater, would we?"

And with that, Draco Apparates away, his heart aching and his head hurting, and keeps telling himself that he's not crying, because it's not worth it. Because he's a grown man and it's fucking ridiculous. Because he's been stupid and naive and it's only his fault, really. His faded Dark Mark is viciously itching and he feels like screaming.

He's not crying. He is not.

HP-HP-HP-HP

He's downing his third Firewhiskey when the Floo suddenly flares wildly, and something is thrown across the room in a cloud of ashes. From what he's seeing, the something is actually a someone, and that shouldn't be possible because he's sure he has warded his Floo earlier this evening. The person currently lying on his floor is coughing as if their lungs are going to get out of their mouth.

"Erm... What the hell are you doing here and who are you? And how did you manage to get through my wards?"

"Sorry... But you didn't answer my owls and I really wanted to talk to you."

"Harry? Fuck, are you alright?"

Draco kneels next to his friend, momentarily forgetting about his anger. Harry seems well enough, from what Draco can see under the layer of ashes that's covering him.

"Yeah, I think so. I didn't know it was so hard to break wards."

"Well, you're not supposed to break them. I didn't even know it was possible. Trust Harry Potter to do what's not possible, of course."

Harry grins childishly and Draco rolls his eyes.

"What are you doing here anyway, Harry?"

He's so tired, all of a sudden. So tired.

"I wanted to talk to you. I think you misunderstood what I was saying. Wait, wait, let me explain, will you? Just hear me out, then you can throw me out of your flat if you want to. Though I would appreciate if you didn't, because I left my wand and my wheelchair in Hogwarts and I'm pretty sure I can't Apparate from this Muggle building and-"

"Harry."

"Yes. Yes, sorry. Erm. Right. So, anyway, I'm not ashamed of being seen with you or anything, Draco. I'm proud to have you as my friend, it's just... People are starting to talk. They say we're... they say we're lovers." Harry blushes profusely and Draco barely refrains to touch his reddened cheek. Fuck. How hasn't he realized sooner what exactly he was feeling for Harry? Of course. Salazar, no. Please no.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"What? No, it doesn't bother me. Well, it does, but not that way. I don't want you to be harassed or anything. I know what people will say. They'll say I've tricked you or cursed you. Or they'll say you want something from me and that you're willing to do anything to have it, even... well... even do me."

"I... I don't understand."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! I know what I am! I know what I look like! What my body looks like, what my face looks like! It's obvious someone like you wouldn't want someone like me! So everyone is going to search the trick, they'll want to know who's using who between the two of us! And I don't want you to face that. Especially not with everything you've already gone through, and not with Scorpius. I will not allow it."

"Harry... I don't care about what people say. And Scorpius doesn't either. He's used to it. I protect him as best as I can, but he knows what people say about me. He knows what I've done and who I am. And he knows people can be mean and hurtful. If we want to be friends, then it's not anyone's business but ours."

"But-"

"No buts. I enjoy the time we're spending together. I don't have many friends, and you've become very important for me." More than he's willing to admit. "If you still want to, I don't see why we couldn't spend time together. And for the record, anyone who wouldn't want you is a fucking moron." And Draco is many things, but he's not a moron.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, and then his hand reaches out to grip Draco's forearm.

"I think I'm scared. I have friends, but... it's not the same. Because... I think you're the only one who makes me forget that I'm bound in that fucking wheelchair, that I'm damaged beyond repair inside and outside. And I'm scared to lose you."

"You won't. I'm somewhat stubborn."

"Yeah, I know." Harry chuckles and looks at him, his eyes wide and honest and full of bittersweet relief. "I still think you shouldn't waste your time with me and, you know. Find someone. Scorpius told me a few days ago that he'd like to have another Dad."

The sneaky little thing. Draco is sure Scorpius has known about Draco's feelings before he realized himself. And he keeps on dropping hints to Harry at school – luckily for Draco, Harry is as oblivious as one can be – because he knows that his father will never act on said feelings. His son really should have been a Slytherin.

"Well, Scorpius can't always have what he wants. Come on, let's clean you up before you go."

HP-HP-HP-HP

"I hope you know what you're doing, Draco."

"What?"

Hermione is looking at him with eyes full of concern and unease.

"With Harry. I don't want to see either of you getting hurt."

"We won't."

"I'm not so sure."

Draco raises an eyebrow and Hermione sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair behind her massive desk.

"Draco, I'm not blind. I know how you feel."

"We're friends. We're very good friends, that's all."

"Is it enough?"

"It has to be."

"Draco... Just be careful, okay? For your sake and for Harry's, be careful."

"Yes, M'am."

"Out, Malfoy. And think about it."


	19. Chapter 19

The place is crowded. Literally packed with thousands of witches and wizards dressed in their best robes, laughing and drinking chilled Champagne and Firewhiskey from magically sparkling glasses. It’s rather disgusting, Draco thinks with a sigh. He throws one side look to his friend. Fuck. Harry is looking petrified with speechless horror at the sight before him. Draco chuckles.

“What did you expect Harry?”

“It’s getting worse every year, I swear.”

“Probably.”

“Is this fucking glitter falling from the ceiling?”

“I’m afraid it is, yes.”

“Oh Merlin. I want to go home.”

“Well, you can’t. You’re supposed to speak and enlighten the masses, your Saviorness.” Draco ignores Harry’s glare and scans the crowd. “Besides, I see Hermione and Weasley already waiting for you in front of the stage. Let’s go, Hero Man.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy.”

“Yes, yes.”

They make their way through the crowd, and Draco dutifully ignores the whispered comments that follow Harry everywhere he goes. Even here, at the annual Ministry party for the War’s End Anniversary. Even if Harry is the wizard who saved them all. Even if he’s dedicating his life for others, first as an outstanding Auror, and now as a respected – both by his colleagues and his students - Professor. Draco knows he has to keep his mouth shut – Harry has insisted – but he’s wondering if he could manage a few wordless Stinging hexes and get away with it. Probably not, if the way Harry keeps on looking back at him suspiciously is any clue. That’s a pity, really.

“Hey, Harry! Oh my God, those robes are awesome!”

Draco grins smugly and Harry rolls his eyes. The robes are awesome, really. The dark green velvet and the silver lace are beautiful and the cut is doing wonders for Harry’s gorgeous upper body, while artfully hiding his legs and most of his wheelchair.

“Draco insisted. Something about my usual ones being boring and old-fashioned.”

“Well, you’re gorgeous, and we all know Draco has good taste.”

“Expensive taste, you mean” Harry mumbles with a frown.

“Same difference, Harry. Up you go, Kingsley is waving at you like a demented tourist on one of those Muggle cruise boats.”

“Shut up, Malfoy. And don’t be rude to anyone while I’m on stage.”

Hermione chokes back a laugh and takes her husband arm to follow Harry’s wheelchair. The redhead is looking from Harry to Draco with a deep frown and Draco barely refrains to smirk.

Harry is speaking now, and of course it’s deep and serious and heart-breaking, like when he talks about the ones who have fallen, that day. Like when he talks about the many orphans and the injured and all that pain that still follows some of the protagonists. And Draco hardly heards any of it because he’s too busy staring at the dark haired man. Taking in the way his unruly hair keeps on going in his eyes. The way he’s talking with his hands.

And above all, he’s too busy looking at Harry’s eyes. At his lips. At his strong jaw and straight nose. At his smooth skin, and the way his throat moves when he’s talking. At his scars, too, because they’re part of him, they’re showing what kind of man he is, and what kind of man Draco has fallen in love with, slowly and irrevocably, in a way that lacks the desperation of youth but has the depth and the strength of older feelings.

Draco smiles and politely applauds with everyone else, and when Harry’s green gaze meets his own grey one, he nods, and Harry smiles almost shyly, as if he had been waiting for his approval. The thought warms Draco, somehow.

And he knows he won’t be acting on his feelings, not now, and not ever, because when you have someone like Harry in your life, you don’t fuck it up. It’s a precious and fragile gift, it’s the kind of friendship that is worth any sacrifice. It’s definitely worth the constant heartache Draco has been experiencing for months.

The blonde quickly makes his way to the men’s lavatories, not really paying attention to his surroundings as he’s lost in his thoughts, but as he’s walking briskly in a crowded alley, he hears Harry’s name.

“Well, he really saved us all, didn’t he?”

“Yes, of course, of course. But you can’t deny he’s looking horrible. And a bit crazy, if you ask me.”

“Been hexed too many times.”

“Probably, yes. I wonder what Malfoy is hoping to gain.”

“Now that man is a handsome one. Can’t believe he’d choose Potter. Can you imagine how the man is looking naked?”

“Ew, honestly, Neila, that’s digusting!”

“I bet this is exactly what Malfoy is thinking when he has to… you know!”

There are hushed chuckles and delighted giggles and Draco feels ill. Before he knows it, he’s bowing before two very startled wizards and three blushing witches, a very sweet and very fake smile on his lips, and his right hand clenched on his wand.

“I couldn’t help but hear you. I’m sure you would like to know what my opinion is on the matter, right?”

The five morons are looking at him with wide eyes, frozen in their stupid robes and Draco want to hex them all with something very, very nasty, but he knows Harry wouldn’t forgive him.

“Harry Potter is the most humble and kind man there is. He’s powerful and brave and selfless in a way you couldn’t even begin to understand. He’s beautiful and strong, and I want him so much it hurts. He is ten times the human being any of you is. You should start thinking what you have done with your pathetic lives, you miserable wastes of space. You disgust me.”

“I- I… Er… Do you mean you’re really in a relationship with him?”

“No. I mean that his personal life – and mine, for that matter – is none of your business. I mean that you aren’t fit to lick the soles of his shoes. I mean you should get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and hex you.”

“I would do as he says” states a calm voice behind him, and Draco nearly jumps when he sees Weasley standing there, his face red with anger and his wand twirling between his fingers. The man is fucking huge, he’s a decorated war hero and a known Auror and even Draco has to admit that he’s looking rather impressive. He raises an eyebrow in question and Weasley only shrugs.

Draco watches the idiots leave and grins to the redhead, who hesitantly grins in return.

Then Draco turns around and nearly gasps out loud.

Harry is here, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and Hermione is standing next to him, a hand covering her mouth. Harry seems to shake himself out of his daze and glares quite efficiently at the various people around them. Once the hallway is cleared, Hermione kisses Harry on the cheek and drags her husband away with a last warning glance for Draco.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’ll just go.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“You said you want me. Show me.”

And there they are, Harry’s stupid honesty and his endless bravery, and that quiet hint of fragility behind all that hero material. Draco feels something break a little inside of him, and he wants to flee as much as he wants to kiss the man in front of him until they’re out of breath.

“Harry…”

“Please, Draco. If it’s true-“

“It is… It’s just not only…” It’s not only about want and need and lust. But Draco can’t deny Harry even if he wanted to. “Alright” he whispers, and Harry’s green eyes are full of terrified wonder and some kind of deeper emotion that Draco cannot read.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst. Kinda sexy angst this time.

Draco Apparates them straight in his flat, fighting his rising nausea and the irrational feeling of impending doom.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Draco barely refrains to snort. If only Harry knew.

“Because our friendship is more important to me than anything else.”

“Will it change things between us?”

“Probably. They’ve already changed anyway, didn’t they?” Draco asks bitterly.

“Draco…”

“It’s too late.”

“You really meant it? It’s not… out of pity or something?”

Harry is looking sincerely concerned and Draco doesn’t even think. He bends down and kisses Harry’s neck, just under his ear. He cups Harry’s scarred jaw with one hand and keeps on kissing his neck, slowly and thoroughly, and he has to close his eyes because it feels too good, it feels too good and there’s no way he will ever forget about it, about the taste of Harry’s skin and the smell of him, Merlin, the smell of him is driving him half mad.

And then Harry moans, quietly and almost shyly, and Draco nearly sighs with relief. He shrugs off his robes and takes Harry in his arms, wordlessly carrying him in his bedroom. Harry doesn’t speak either, he’s just looking at Draco with eyes wide with disbelief and dark with lust, and Draco’s chest clenches painfully at the sight.

He spells both their clothes off. He’s aware that it’s a bit rough, but he doesn’t want to give himself away more than he already has – and too much foreplay would definitely do that. Harry is beautiful, though, sprawled like that on his bed, blushing fiercely and averting his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous” he whispers, awed and humbled and his hands move on their own, mapping every inch of the dark haired man skin and smiling at every moan and choked whimper.

“You don’t believe it, do you?”

Harry shakes his head and bits his lower lip, and Draco trails a hand through the dark hair and the few greying strands on his temples. He wants to kiss Harry so much that it’s becoming physically painful, but he won’t. He won’t kiss him on the lips, as tempting as it is.

“You are. Your body is. It’s like you, you know? Both strong and fragile. Powerful and vulnerable. You have no idea what you’re doing to me. You have no idea how much I want you.”

Draco leans down, letting their skins meet, and keeping on talking softly to the other man, kissing every inch of him, learning what he likes and what he wants, even if Harry doesn’t say it – he doesn’t need to, the lovely reactions of his body tell Draco everything he needs to know. After a few more breathless moments, he’s straddling a heavily panting Harry, riding him slowly and never closing his eyes, because he wants to remember every single moment. Harry begins to repeat his name again and again with a low and deep voice, almost like a prayer, his fingertips caressing Draco’s tights so lightly, so tenderly, and Draco feels the lump in his throat getting bigger as heat pools in his lower belly.

All of a sudden, Harry wraps an arm around his neck and brings Draco down, surprising the blonde once again with his strength, and then they’re kissing, and it’s even better than he has imagined it would be, and Draco is coming, with Harry inside him and all around him and just everywhere. And for a too short moment, everything is perfect.

So perfect that Draco whispers a shuddering “I love you” against Harry’s lips and can’t bring himself to care about consequences. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he’s still buried deep inside of Draco, and he’s holding him almost too tightly, and his lips are against Draco’s once more, and it’s good enough.

It has to be.

HP-HP-HP-HP

**_Harry’s POV_ **

_Harry can’t sleep, but he doesn’t want to move either. Draco is lying behind him, his taller frame spooning him and an arm holding him against the blonde’s slim chest._

_Draco has not lied. For some unfathomable reason, he really wants Harry. As much as Harry doubted it earlier, he’s sure of it now. No one can fake emotions such as those he has seen in Draco’s eyes earlier. Just the memory of Draco moving above him, his grey eyes conveying so much, his pale face flushed and glistening with sweat… And all those little moans and whimpers and half-choked words… Salazar, it’s nearly enough to make Harry want to shake the blonde man awake and do it again._

_But what the blonde has said… Harry doesn’t understand it. Is it some kind of belated and twisted hero worship? It seems unlikely, especially considering who Draco is. Or is it some weird kink because of Harry’s disability, making Draco confuse a somewhat perverted desire with love? Then again, this is Draco Malfoy. The man doesn’t seem the sort to just go and confess his feelings to anyone if he was not certain of their nature._

_Draco’s arm tightens briefly around his waist and Harry has to close his eyes. Can it be? Can someone really love him? Especially now that he’s damaged goods? And how does he feel about Draco?_

_And Draco has a son. Any relationship with him would have to include Scorpius at one point – not that Harry has anything against the idea, far from it. But that would mean… having a family. Not just a partner, even if the concept is already mind-blowing itself, but a real family._

_What if Draco doesn’t want him to have anything to do with Scorpius? What if Scorpius is disgusted with the idea of his scarred professor with his beautiful and loving father? And what if-_

_“Harry, you’re thinking too loud, I can’t sleep. What’s wrong? Are you freaking out?”_

_“What?” Strangely, he’s not. Should he? He has just slept with a man, after all. Surely he should feel something about that. Something else than the fact that it was wonderful and perfect and that he would like to do it again, preferably very soon. “No, I’m not.”_

_“Good. What is it then? Oh! Maybe you want to go home now? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that, I mean of course you don’t want to stay here after-“_

_“Slow down Draco. You’re babbling. You’re sounding like me. It’s nothing like that. I actually feel good. Even when we were in New Zealand, I liked sleeping with you. It feels… safe, somehow.”_

_“Alright.”_

_Draco’s quiet breathing tickles his shoulder and Harry shivers._

_“What are we doing now?”_

_“Well, we’re supposed to sleep, I guess, but you seem-“_

_“Not that, you git!” Harry chuckles and he feels his lover – oh Merlin, yes, his lover – smile against his skin. “I mean… Did you mean it? Are we… are we dating or something?”_

_“Harry… Yes, I meant it. I shouldn’t have said it and I apologize. I was a bit… carried away, I suppose. But that doesn’t mean we have to do anything. You wanted me to show you, remember? That’s what I’ve done. I don’t expect anything.”_

_“But would you like it?”_

_“Yes. I would. But only if you want it too, Harry. I’m fine with us staying just friends if that’s what you want.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I don’t know what I’m feeling.”_

_“It’s alright.”_

_“It’s frustrating.”_

_“Yes, I can imagine. Just… don’t overthink it. We’ve just fucked and-“_

_“Made love.”_

_“What?”_

_“That was not fucking, Draco. I’ve fucked before – granted, it was quite a long time ago, but still, I know about fucking. We’ve made love. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel like that. You’re just… I don’t know.”_

_“Yes, well, anyway, we’ve just had sex and it’s a bad timing for you to sort your emotions out. Give it time.”_

_“Will you wait for me?”_

_“I will. I love you, Harry. That’s not something I can ignore or forget anytime soon. Of course I’ll wait for you. And I’m your friend, no matter what.”_

_Harry lets his hand rests over Draco’s on his belly, and wishes he could just turn around and kiss Draco. But it’s not that simple. It’s not that easy. But nothing really worth it is ever simple or easy, is it?_

_Harry wakes up a few hours later with a start. It takes him a few seconds to remember where he is – and why. He’s alone, though, and the sheets beside him are rumpled and cold. He sits up, wondering if he should call Draco for help, as embarrassing as it is, but then he spots it. His wheelchair is next to the bed, and his folded clothes rest on the back. Harry smiles at Draco’s thoughtfulness – who would have guessed? – and dresses quickly._

_Draco is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. He’s looking both sad and weary, and Harry wonders with a sharp pang if it’s because of him._

_“Hi.”_

_“Hi. Thanks for the wheelchair and the clothes.”_

_“No problem. Do you want a cup of tea?”_

_“Erm, no, thanks… I should get back to Hogwarts.”_

_“Of course.”_

_Draco’s tone is flat and matter-of-fact, but something flashes briefly in his grey eyes. Something that looks like pain._

_“I just need to go to the loo rather urgently and, well, I need to go back home for that. My quarters in Hogwarts are equipped for my disability.”_

_Harry’s cheeks flame with shame – why the hell has he admitted such a thing? To Draco, of all people? He risks a glance at the blonde man and he’s surprised to find him smile softly, a look of deep understanding and what can only be described as fondness on his handsome face._

_“Third door on your left in the hallway. I’ve had my flat slightly modified.”_

_“You have… what?”_

_“Just go, Harry.”_

_Harry relieves himself in Draco’s bathroom, his eyes wandering from the shower to the loo and the lowered sink. Well, fuck. That’s unexpected._

_Draco hasn’t moved at all._

_“I should go. I… I’ll owl you.”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Draco, I… Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m no good with words. I just… I need to think about all what happened.”_

_“I understand. It’s alright.”_

_“Okay.”_

_Harry tells himself it’s really alright, as he Flooes home. He tries to tell himself he’s doing the right thing, because he really needs to think. It doesn’t make Draco’s taut face and sad eyes disappear from his mind._


	21. Chapter 21

“You’re an idiot, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco winces and watches as his boss shakes her head, some strands of curly hair escaping from her bun.

“What did I say about not hurting yourselves?”

“I did not hurt him, Hermione.”

Her expression softens almost frighteningly.

“I know. But what about you?”

“It’s only sex. We’re adults. It’s fine.”

“You’re an idiot. Harry came to me yesterday. He told me about what you said.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“On the contrary. You should have told him before sleeping with him.”

Draco only stares and Hermione rolls her eyes.

“Oh, honestly! Harry doesn’t do one-night-stands. In fact I think he didn’t sleep with anyone in years. You mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with what happened. He’s convinced you’ll change your mind sooner or later, he’s convinced he’s a passing fancy for you. Well, now he’s confused as hell because of what you told him, but still.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I don’t know-“

“You have no idea what it would mean for Harry to have someone like you in his life. You have no idea what you’re offering him. Suddenly someone he considers as a very close friend is interested in him in a romantic way. And that someone has a son, and that means family for Harry. You’re suddenly offering him the two things Harry had given up on: love and family.”

“And he doesn’t want to believe I’m sincere only to be disappointed later.”

“Not disappointed. Harry does everything with everything he has. It would destroy him, Draco. He has been through so much already.”

“Fuck.”

“I believe you did.”

Draco raises an eyebrow and Hermione smirks – it’s slightly disturbing, to be honest.

“I know you’re sincere. You’re a good man and you deserve love and happiness as much as Harry does. Just… be patient.”

“I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know.”

“Do you think…” Bloody hell, but it’s embarrassing enough to discuss his love life with his boss. He should probably not ask. “Do you think he could… erm… feel the same way one day?”

Shit, too late.

Hermione’s smirk grows wider.

“That’s something you’ll have to discover on your own, Draco. Break is over. Go to work, Malfoy.”

Draco sighs and gets out of Hermione’s office. He’s getting too old for that type of things. Honestly, men in their late thirties – okay, okay, very early forties – shouldn’t be that confused over romantic relationships. It’s downright ridiculous.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco spots the familiar blonde head in the crowd of students and smiles. It’s good to see his son again. He sees Scorpius whispering something to Rose Weasley, who’s beaming at him with a delighted laugh. Hermione winks to him from afar and he nods back.

“Scorpius! It’s good to see you… How are you?”

They hug for a few seconds and then they go, Apparating away as soon as they reach the safe zone. Scorpius begins to tell his father every single thing that happened during the last few weeks. Draco hums and nods and marvels at how comforting it is to hear the still high-pitched voice of the teenager, how close he has been to lose him. He’s so lost in thought that he’s quite badly startled when Scorpius asks him something.

“Can I go to the Weasley’s for a few days next week? Rose said it was okay with her parents and since you’re working with Mrs. Weasley you could ask her anyway. I know it’s a bit soon but then they’ll all visit their uncle in Romania, the one that works with dragons and so-“

“Slow down, Scorpius. I’ll talk to Hermione on Monday, but if she agrees I don’t see why you couldn’t go.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

“You’re welcome, Scorpius. Maybe you should put your trunk in your room. We’ll eat in a few.”

“Alright. Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Did you have a fight with Professor Potter?”

“Why would think I have?”

“Because I asked him about you two weeks ago and he said the two of you didn’t meet every anymore, like you used to.”

Draco takes a deep breath and smiles.

“We do not, but that doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore.”

“What mistake did he make?”

“What?”

“Professor Potter said he made a mistake and didn’t know how to fix it. What was it?”

Draco closes his eyes to hide his pain from his son. A mistake. Of course.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Scorpius. It’s not important.”

“Maybe you could talk to him? You both seemed happier before, you know.”

His son is studying closely, his blue-grey eyes full of worry, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to understand what happened and how it affects Draco.

“Scorpius… sometimes friends can disagree, or see each other less. That doesn’t mean they’re not friends anymore.”

“I know that. I just don’t think it’s about the two of being friends. It’s not like you to give up that easily, Dad. And I really like Professor Potter very much.”

And with that, Scorpius turns on his heels, leaving Draco gaping behind him, completely stunned and feeling much older than his years.

Did his now fourteen years-old son just berate him for the way he’s handling his own friendship – or relationship, or whatever it is - with Harry?

Can their friendship be salvaged, with Draco being stupidly in love and Harry regretting their night together? How would it be to pretend nothing happened? Would they even be able to? Harry is honest to a fault, Draco’s not sure he could.

Draco could, of course. Because the pain of losing Harry, of not seeing him anymore is greater than the heartache of loving him hopelessly. As pathetic as it is, he’s not even ashamed to admit he’d agree to be in Harry’s life as whatever Harry would want him to be.

If Harry wants him to be in his life at all, that is.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more angst, and then some cheesy ending topped with extra cheese.  
> I hope you liked it anyway! That's it for today, folks!

Draco opens his mouth to speak and closes it just as quickly. A young man with bright pink hair hugs Harry exuberantly and then jogs in the hallway, his frayed jeans hanging loosely on his slim frame.

"Was that Teddy Lupin?"

"Oh, Draco! Yes, it was. He helped me with something. How are you? I'm glad you came, I was not sure you would want to, with me not contacting you and everything and really-"

"It's alright, Harry. I understand. You said you wanted to show me something?"

"Yes."

Harry smiles brightly and Draco can't help but smile in return. Harry's owl has come the day before, quite unexpectedly. As Scorpius is gone to the Weasley's for a few days, he has nothing better to do on his Saturday.

Not that he wouldn't do anything else anyway. But he wouldn't admit it, even to himself.

"Come on, it's waiting outside. Teddy has been helping me for weeks. He's almost as excited as I am about the whole thing."

Draco follows Harry wordlessly, not knowing what to expect, and not really knowing where they stand now. Is today Harry's way to tell Draco he wishes them to remain friends? Hopefully it is. They're soon outside, and Draco recognizes the Quidditch pitch with a pang. It was so long ago… Harry and him, both Seekers, both gifted in the air, both willing to win every game.

"Yeah. Seems like yesterday and like a hundred years ago at the same time, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

"Here it is."

It's a motorbike, black and shiny. Harry is smiling, bright as the sun, his green eyes gleaming with something wicked and somewhat dangerous. Draco blinks.

"Er… Harry?"

"It's was my godfather's. Sirius Black. Actually it's the one with which Hagrid took me to my relatives, the night my parents were killed."

"I see…"

"Actually, I think you don't. I've been working on it for years. Then I was injured, and well… I didn't think I could ride anymore anyway. But thanks to you, I can."

"Thanks to me?"

"Yes. You showed me – well, you and Theo– that I still could fly on a broom. I told Teddy who immediately thought of the bike. It's a magical one anyway, so we only had to change some minor enchantments and to add the braces for my legs. We've been testing it all week, but it's finally ready. Fancy a ride?"

Harry's eyes are shining and his cheeks are pink with excitement. With his hoodie and faded pair of jeans, he would look like a teenager if it weren't for the scars and grey hair.

"I'd like that very much, Harry."

Draco actually doesn't want to climb on that Muggle death engine at all, but how can he deny that man anything? Especially when said man is looking at him like that? Harry grins and begins to haul himself out of his wheelchair, to Draco's surprise.

"We've made it so I can get on it on my own. See? Come on, Draco!"

Draco cautiously sits behind Harry, straddling the damn bike and resting his hands on Harry's sides.

"Hold on tighter, we're going to see what she's got!"

 _Sweet Merlin, let me survive this in one piece_ , Draco thinks as they take off.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"So?"

"It's incredible. I admit I was slightly worried – okay, okay, more than slightly – but it's great! Thank you for bringing me with you, Harry."

"You're welcome. I really wanted to share this with you."

Harry's eyes are soft and his smile is gentle and bright. And Draco is so lost, so utterly lost.

"I've arranged for us to have dinner in my quarters, if you want to. I know that Scorpius is staying at Hermione's and Ron's."

"Oh! Alright, then."

"Great! Great."

The food is delicious and the soft atmosphere in Harry's quarters, only lit with candles, is relaxing and more than a little romantic.

"Treacle tart, Harry?"

Harry grins like a child and munches happily, making Draco laugh whole heartedly. It happens like an evidence, because Harry is leaning in with shining eyes and his lips are slightly open in anticipation and Draco's insides twist in a not-unpleasant way.

It's soft and gentle and it tastes like treacle tart and sweet wine, and Draco lets out a sigh of pleasure.

"Draco…" Harry kisses him once more, his hands in Draco's hair. "I want you."

"Yes" Draco answers, even if it's a very bad idea, even if it's madness, even if it will break his heart eventually.

"Will you make love to me?"

Draco nearly passes out from sheer want and raw emotion, and manages to nod weakly. It almost happens in a blur, because his mind is blown by the amount of feels and emotions, by the taste of Harry's skin and the warmth of his body, by his quiet moans and his murmured words, by the look in his eyes and the way his calloused hands are griping Draco's shoulders, his wrists, his thighs, like he's looking for something to anchor himself. Like he's just as overwhelmed as the blonde is.

Harry holds Draco afterwards, just as tightly as the previous time, and when Draco raises his head, he kisses him deeply.

"There are bad days, you know. Days when I'm feeling so sore that I can barely get out of bed. Days when I need someone to help me with everything. There are bad nights as well, with nightmares and screams and cold sweat."

Draco just stares at Harry, because he has the feeling that something important is happening, even if doesn't understand it just now, and he doesn't want to break the moment.

"And I can be dangerous. There's this dark part of me… the one that would hurt without remorse if someone I love is threatened or harmed. The one that would have tortured your father to death if needed. And I'm not sorry about that part. Not anymore."

Harry raises both hands and caresses Draco's jaw with trembling fingers.

"There's the fact that I'm so scarred that people often look away. There's the fact that I'm recognized almost everywhere I go. There's all that. You… You have no idea what I feel for you. I think I had no idea either, to be honest, until Hermione spelled it out for me. But… You said you loved me. I love you, too. Just… I'm not sure if I'm good for you. I'm not sure if it's worth it for you."

"You're a moron."

"Draco, please-"

"Shut up. I love you. All of you. Scars and wheelchair and darkness included. All. Of. You. You make me a better person, you make me want to change things, you make me want to do impossible things. You make me want to take you and Scorpius and travel the world, just the three of us. You make me want to get down on my knees and propose you. You make me want to fuck you on a tropical beach and hold you tight on Christmas Eve."

"Merlin… Please… Just…"

"Say it. Just say it."

"I love you. I love you so much."

"Good. Now sleep. I'll take you to Paris for lunch tomorrow."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe."

And they kiss and share ridiculous tears of joy and fall asleep wrapped around each other, Harry's too thin legs tangled with Draco's, and Draco's Dark Mark under Harry's calloused hand, and if it's not perfect, it's damn well worth it all the same, and they'll deal with the rest together.


End file.
